The Hordes of the Underlings
by Mimulus
Summary: A surreal slant on the story from the Two Towers onwards...OCs at first, then Galadriel, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli later. NOW COMPLETE
1. From the Anduin to Fangorn

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or the whole Middle Earth concept, including**

**place names etc**

The thud of every step jarred through his body. They had been on the move for three days and Druluk was using all his willpower to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Two things sustained his effort: the thought that if he slowed his pace for but a second the Uruk behind would walk straight into him, and the subconscious knowledge that if he stopped walking he would start remembering.

_A young orc, on his first trip out of Isengard.__ Marching smartly as though Saruman's eyes were on him at all times. Eager, cheerful, curious about his marching companion:_

_'I suppose you've been on lots of missions.'_

_Druluk doesn't reply, but the young orc persists_

_'Go on, you must have some tales to tell…'_

_'I've only recently become a foot soldier. I used to work in the __Tower__ of __Orthanc__. I have not seen combat.'_

_Druluk's__ tone implies the conversation is over, but the other orc is impressed, and continues,_

_'Wow! The Tower! You must be one of Saruman's favourites!'_

_'Not really.'_

'Get a move on back there!' came a shout from the head of the marching column. Druluk forced himself to take longer strides and felt the wound in his leg open up again.

_A brief rest after a day's march.__ Druluk leans his back against part of the rocky outcrop where they are sheltering. The young orc, Rashgrul comes and sits beside him._

_'So what did you do in the Tower?'_

What had he done in the tower? These were safer thoughts to dwell on. The repetition of his actions every day, stretching back for as he could recall. Rising before dawn and stumbling through pitch dark stone corridors until he reached Saruman's main hall. Without fail the wizard would be there before him. Then he would receive the day's instructions, invariably involving digging out a specific manuscript from the vast heaps of yellowing scrolls which were secreted in the Tower's deep vaults and returning, hours later, to where the wizard stood at a tall stone podium, pondering another ancient text. He would dutifully add his own to the pile beside the podium, then stand by. Sometimes he would stand for hours, the wizard scarcely aware of his presence. Then another order, another manuscript, another expedition into the dusty paper mountains.

He didn't remember learning to read. Saruman must have taught him, for he could understand not only orc runes but also the common script, elvish, dwarf runes and various other written languages that had been in use in Middle Earth at some time or another. But it wasn't until a month or so ago that he had taken any actual interest in the words he ferried from the tower's foundations to Saruman's lofty chamber.

_'I read.'_

_'Read?' Rashgrul looks at Druluk expectantly _

_'Yes.' Druluk stretches his legs out in front of him, feels his hamstrings tauten. 'I read. History, legend, tales, I read them all.'_

_'So you must have some idea of…what this is all about? Of what's going to happen?' Rashgrul's voice is serious now. Druluk looks at him and sees the genuine question and also fear in his eyes._

_'Not really.' His reply comes out bluntly, and he wishes he had not spoken._

'Halt!'

The order filtered back along the company. For a second the novelty of standing still blotted out all other sensations, but then the pain came flooding back.

_Tramping through ancient woodland, Druluk's boots kick up flurries of golden leaves. He and Rashgrul are bringing up the rear. It is the middle of the day, and despite the shade of the trees the orcs feel somewhat uneasy with the sun's presence. But the Uruk Hai which make up the majority of their party march in full sunlight without complaint. _

_A sudden shout comes from up ahead, then the scraping crunch of metal smashing into metal. Rashgrul jumps, then rushes forward to join the main body of the company as they charge, fanning out as they weave in between the trees. Druluk watches, hesitating. He sees Rashgrul running, drawing his sword, turning his head to look back…_

_'Druluk!__ Come…' _

_He sees Rashgrul stagger, arch his back in a convulsion of pain and fall. Druluk stands for a second more, rooted to the ground in horror, then dashes over, oblivious to the arrows flying through the air._

_'Rashgrul!'___

_The young orc is bleeding heavily, an arrow has pierced the back of his neck. Druluk grabs him by the arm, tries to pull him to his feet but his body crumples limply back to the ground. In desperation, Druluk drags him into the lee of the nearest tree. Rashgrul moans faintly as Druluk raises his head and cradles it with one hand_

_'Rashgrul, I…'_

_Rashgrul's__ eyes close._

_'Rashgrul!'__ Druluk shakes him and the orc exhales with a sound that is half sigh, half whisper:_

_'Saruman…' _

_'Saruman?' asks Druluk, 'Saruman?' Rashgrul's body is completely still in his arms._

_'Saruman?' he whispers, as though this is a mantra which can work miracles. 'Saruman?' _

_Rashgrul's__ blood feels hot and sticky on his fingers. With shaking hands he lays the orc's head down on the ground, then slowly rises to his feet. For a moment he stands, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Then anger rushes through him, takes over his body and sends him pounding out from behind the tree towards the fray. _

_'Saruman!' he screams, 'Saruman!'_

_He does not see the trees, he does not hear the sounds of battle, all he can envisage is the wizard ensconced in his stone fortress, studying his papers, planning his strategies, sending orcs like Rashgrul out to die. _

Someone shoved him roughly,

'Get a move on!'

Druluk staggered forward, mind still focussed on three days ago. His clear memories ended in a blur of red blood and autumn leaves. He must have taken part in the battle...his leg had been slashed by some kind of blade and his whole body felt bruised, but he couldn't recall anything. And now here he was, marching back with what remained of the company that had set out, and two prisoners. He couldn't summon up the energy to try and work out why.

They marched until the sun turned the scuddy clouds a lurid pink. As the gloomy dusk bled imperceptibly into true night, Druluk saw they were approaching the borders of a forest. Fangorn forest. This landmark meant they were approaching Isengard. Approaching Saruman. The image of the wizard, the last time he had seen him face to face, kept floating to the top of his mind.

He had been told to bring back a particular manuscript, some ancient treatise on the chemical properties of various minerals. But in leafing through Saruman's hoards of scrolls the runes on one had caught his eye. He recognised the word 'orc'. And he had read. And read. He didn't know how many hours he had sat there, dust settling on his clothes just as it settled on the reams of history surrounding him. But he had read that scroll, and he had rummaged more in the pile and found another, with handwriting that he recognised. And he had read that one too, with horror beginning to bubble up inside him. And just as he replaced the scroll, with hands that trembled, the very paper mountain itself had trembled, as though a breeze had managed to penetrate that underground stronghold, and he had looked up to find the wizard standing over him, fury emanating from his whole being. He had not spoken. Druluk knew he was to leave and never enter the tower again. He had joined the regiment for want of anything else to do. He had never known a life outside Isengard. But now the thought of returning there filled him with repulsion.

He was already fairly near the back of the company. He took a step to one side, to get out of the moving mass of orcs, and knelt by the side of the path they were taking, as though tightening the straps of his boots. The other orcs and Uruk hai seemed to take no notice. He shuffled a little further away, hoping no one would take a sideways glance. Then he crept a little further, rose to his feet, and ran as fast as he could. Heart and lungs burning, stabbing pains shooting up his leg, he ran without thinking of direction.

A light! Up ahead, was that a fire? Squinting, Druluk decided that he hadn't imagined it, there was definitely a light. He dropped to his stomach and crept closer. The light was definitely coming from a camp fire, but he could not make out who was tending it. His aching limbs cried out for a rest in the warm glow, but if it came to a fight he hadn't a chance in his state of near exhaustion. With a grunt of resignation he started to edge away, back into the impenetrable darkness.

An arrow whipped past his ear. Druluk threw himself into the mud, heart thudding. With one hand he struggled to free a knife from his belt, but before he could pull it out he felt a foot pressing into the back of his neck.

'Make any sudden moves and the next arrow won't miss.' The voice spoke in the Common Tongue but the accent implied this was an elf. Druluk felt gloved hands grab his own. He let his arms be twisted behind his back and tied together with what felt like string. His ankles received similar treatment. Then the pressure on his neck was released, and he could raise his head. Spitting out mud he gasped out

'I intended no harm to you!'

'You'll have to forgive my scepticism about that,' answered the elf. 'Where is your company?'

'I have no company.'

'Your armour implies otherwise.'

'I've deserted my company.'

The elf made no reply, but grabbed Druluk by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. He shuffled uncomfortably along as the elf guided him towards the fire. In the flickering light it cast, the elf crouched to look directly into Druluk's eyes. Druluk saw that the elf had a typically delicately shaped nose, mouth and chin, but that the braids in his hair were coming undone, and that smears of mud and blood adorned his cheeks and forehead. He couldn't quite decide if the odd look in the elf's eyes came from reflections of the dancing flames or from within…

'Why did you desert your company?'

Druluk hesitated.

'I don't want to fight for something I don't believe in.'

The elf held Druluk's gaze for a moment longer, then said abruptly

'Sit down.'

Druluk tried not to let the relief show in his face. He dropped awkwardly to his knees and shuffled closer to the flames. The elf moved to the other side of the fire, where a metal pan was suspended on a frame made from a thin branch bent into an arch. Inside it something sizzled. The smell made Druluk's mouth water.

'What're you cooking?' he asked

'Mushrooms with wild garlic.'

'Smells good.'

'I thought goblins liked to eat raw flesh'

'Yeah, well, you thought wrong. And it's _orc_ thank-you_'_

'Sorry.'

'But if you did happen to have some meat around the place…'

'I'm a vegan.'

'Yeah, right, of course. Sorry.'

Druluk shifted his weight from one side to the other and winced as he put pressure on his wounded leg. The elf glanced up, then looked away, clearly still indecisive about how much he cared for his uninvited guest. Druluk didn't blame him. But he something drove him to keep talking.

'What's your name?'

'Ylfronir.'

'I'm Druluk.'

Ylfronir didn't answer, but ladled some mushrooms onto a wooden plate and came over to where Druluk knelt.

'I am going to untie your hands. Betray my trust and you die.'

Druluk wondered at the fact that Ylfronir had let him keep the various knives he had stored in his belt. Surely he must have noticed? Did he really trust him that much? It was a gratifying thought. But then the elf did still have his own knife, and his bow. And Druluk's legs were still bound.

The mushrooms were delicious, though the lembas bread Ylfronir offered him almost made him choke. Having eaten they now sat staring at the flames. Druluk, now no longer weak with hunger and freezing cold felt his confidence returning. With this came curiosity about his unlikely companion.

'So what brings you to the outskirts of Fangorn forest?'

'I am in exile from my home.'

'Oh. Shame. Where are you from?'

'Mirkwood.'

Druluk said nothing, but the elf seemed to want to go on

'I left 3 years ago,'

'What'd you done?'

Ylfronir added a piece of dead wood to the fire and turned to face the orc

'Tell me, Druluk…what do you know of elves?'

'Not a lot.'

'We are an ancient race. We are immortal. You cannot conceive of what that means.'

'OK….'

'We have set ourselves apart from the rest of the world, we hide our kingdoms from the eyes of men and dwarves…'

'…and orcs?'

'well, that goes without saying. My point is, we live our reclusive lives wrapped up in our own affairs and traditions, and very rarely concern ourselves with the outside world. But some of us are growing tired of this.'

'Some of you?'

'Well, I, and others. Ten, twenty years ago we knew that something was wrong in the world. We could sense powerful forces stirring. So could any elf. Yet our ways are such that all knowledge of what was happening was kept secret. Any information about what was really going on had to be gleaned from overheard conversations and passed on in whispers. Our king and his small circle of chosen advisors kept all they knew to themselves.'

'Well, come on, that seems fairly reasonable,' put in Druluk, 'I mean, spies can be anywhere. You don't want secret information being the talk of the…wood…'

'Yes, but who is our king to be the one to decide what path the elves of Mirkwood should take in response to this rising evil?' said Ylfronir, his voice betraying emotion for the first time. At the word 'evil', Druluk couldn't help but flinch. Ylfronir looked away. After a long pause, Druluk broke the silence

'If not a king, who then?'

'Some form of elected council! A group of elves selected for their talents not their birthline!'

'Selected by who?'

'All the elves of Mirkwood.' Ylfronir lent back on his elbows and gazed up into the night sky. 'This was our dream,' he sighed. 'We formed a society: Mirkwood Elves for New Democracy, MEND for short.'

'Catchy.'

'We began campaigning. We wrote all manner of anti monarchy songs…'

'Songs?'

'Oh yes, scored for harp and 3 part vocal harmony. We would sing them around the fire, you know the sort of thing…'

'Er, yes, of course,'

'And we wore brooches on our cloaks with the initials 'MEND' wrought in finest silver,' Ylfronir pointed to the clasp which held his cloak around his shoulders. It was rather tarnished, but the letters MEND were still recognisable in a much embellished version of the common script.

'Why didn't you write in elvish?' asked Druluk, in genuine curiosity

'There is no word for democracy in elvish,' said Ylfronir sorrowfully.

'So,' said Druluk, 'why exile? Did you use up too much silver making your little brooches? Or perhaps you wrote a particularly radical song. Were those 3 part harmonies what made Mirkwood too hot to hold you?'

Ylfronir looked pained. 'My exile was not, as it happened, directly as a result of my campaigning activities.'

'Oh?'

'Have you ever heard of a creature called Gollum?'

Druluk had heard the name Gollum before – in Saruman's mutterings as he gazed into his Palentir whilst Druluk stood by awaiting orders – but he was not clear in his mind exactly who Gollum was. Also, he was unwilling to explain exactly where he had heard the name, so he replied

'No, never.'

'A most unfortunate creature. I don't know his story fully because I am just an ordinary elf, but I gathered that he was once in possession of an extremely powerful magical object. He lost it, and is now completely consumed by his desire to get it back. He was given into the custody of the elves of Mirkwood because the _unelected_ powers that be deemed it would be dangerous for him to roam Middle Earth in search of this item. I was among those set to guard him.'

'Oh yes?'

'I took my duties seriously, I really did.'

'I'm sure…'

'I mean, he was such a miserable, tortured soul! That tree seemed like the only thing which gave him the slightest bit of happiness!'

'Tree?'

'And he'd climbed it so many times before…'

'Climbed?'

'Yes, he liked to climb a particular tree. And one day I was in charge of those guarding him as he swung about in the branches. For some reason he did not want to come down that day…and we didn't fancy climbing up after him, so we just waited at the bottom for him to get tired. Night fell. And suddenly out of nowhere came a party of gobli…sorry…orcs, and well, um…'

'So basically you were in charge of an important prisoner and because you were too lay to climb a tree he escaped.'

'Now wait a minute! It wasn't like that at all…'

'You hung around waiting _until it got dark_. That's just asking for trouble! No wonder you were put into exile!' exclaimed Druluk. He regretted it instantly, and bit his lip as Ylfronir sent him a venomous look.

'My exile is in fact self imposed.'

'Huh?'

'My people don't go in for that sort of punishment. But they do have long memories. And I realised that my continued presence was likely to compromise the success of our campaign for democracy.'

'Oh yes, because success was so very likely…'

'It's lucky for you that I have a strict moral code which prohibits me from hitting you…'

All of a sudden Ylfronir darted to the fire and stamped it out, kicking mud over the logs to extinguish the flames.

'What's happening?' asked Druluk, attempting to get up. Ylfronir pushed him roughly to the ground

'Some moral code!' exclaimed the orc

'Quiet!' hissed Ylfronir 'I think I heard something.'

'I didn't,'

'_Quiet_!'

Ylfronir dropped to the ground, closed his eyes and a look of intense concentration came over his face. Druluk tried to stay as quiet as possible. After a minute or so Ylfronir's eyes snapped open

'Horses. Lots of horses, heading this way.'

'I didn't hear a thing…'

Ylfronir drew his knife

'Hey! Moral code, remember!' Druluk tried to shuffle away

'Keep still you idiot!' Ylfronir caught hold of the orc's arm with one hand and sliced through the bonds around his legs with the other.

'Now, you can run, if you think you can outrun horsemen. You can stay here and hide if you prefer. I am going into Fangorn. You can accompany me, but if you choose to do so you must do exactly as I say.'

Druluk hesitated. The elf strode away from him, towards the trees. Alone he was no worse off than when he had first abandoned his companions…apart from the approaching horsemen of course…He had never been into Fangorn Forest, its dark and tangled, faintly menacing interior had never appealed, but the open and exposed plains of Rohan were equally uninviting. He found his footsteps edging towards the forest border. Ylfronir could have killed him easily, but he hadn't. Instead he had given him food and spoken to him as an equal.

Druluk was at the very border of the forest now. The air smelt earthy. A deep sense of apprehension flooded over him as he tried to see past the first few tree trunks, but then he heard the hoofbeats. Only faint as yet but definitely hoofbeats.

The decision was made. He plunged forward. Dead branches broke underneath his feet. Cursing inwardly he tried to take lighter steps, but panic did not lend itself to this. An unexpected root sent him toppling forward, arms flailing for some support, which was provided by a nearby tree, its bark slimy with wet moss under his hand. His momentum carried him swinging round the trunk and

'Decided to join me then?' Part of the tree miraculously became Ylfronir. 'Or are you planning to get me killed?'

'Excuse me?' gasped Druluk, trying to breathe normally again.

'You made enough noise to wake the trees!'

'The trees?'

'Later.' Ylfronir held up his hand

The sound of hooves was closer, and now men's voices were discernible. Druluk could not make out what they were saying, but Ylfronir's face was tense with concentration.

'I think it's Eomer and his men,' he whispered

'Eomer?'

'Nephew of King Theoden…hey! They found my fire!'

'Damn! Are they coming into the forest?'

'No, I don't think so...one of them just suggested the fire was made by a company of orcs…'

'Maybe they're tracking my company,' said Druluk

'Orcs! Honestly. Would orcs have laid a fire as beautifully as that? Hang on, they're saying something else…I think that they…oh!' Ylfronir drew in his breath sharply,

'What?'

Ylfronir said nothing, but slid his back down the tree trunk to sit leaning against its base.

'What?' Druluk crouched down beside him, hissing the question through clenched teeth.

'They have just come from…doing battle.'

'Doing battle?'

'They came upon a company of Uruk Hai and…orcs.'

Druluk slowly moved to lean against the tree trunk as well.

'I take it they slaughtered them all.'

'Druluk, I…'

'_Don't_.'

He sensed the elf recoil, before realisation washed into his mind and overflowed his consciousness. All dead. A matter of hours ago he had been marching with them and now they were gone.

'It's not as if we were friends,' he heard himself saying, in a dull, flat voice, 'I barely knew any of their names.' If Ylfronir replied he never heard.


	2. From Fangorn to Isengard

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

* * *

They spent the night leaning against the tree trunk, Druluk staring straight ahead, his expression impenetrable. Ylfronir's mind spun. He felt sorrow, sorrow for Druluk, sorrow, even, that a company of orcs and Uruk Hai was dead. He had to keep reminding himself that a war was starting. That he may well have to join it soon. That he was on the _good_ side.

Eventually a faint grey light started to seep down to the forest floor. Dawn had come at last. He noticed for the first time how cold and damp the tree trunk felt against his back. Stirring himself he stole a glance at Druluk. The orc's eyes were still open, but now he was hunched forward, staring at the ground.

'We'd better get moving…' Ylfronir ventured. The orc made no reply. Ylfronir realised that unconsciously he had implied they would travel together today. He cursed himself for introducing this extra complication. Why should the orc want to travel with him? Did he want to travel with Druluk? The surprising realisation crept over that he did. He opened his mouth once more, his lips an empty frame for words he was struggling to find, but it proved unnecessary. Druluk shook himself, and got to his feet.

'I thought, um, well, I was going to head further into the forest…' Ylfronir said, hesitantly.

'Let's go.'

_'_Fangorn is, um, quite a_ special _forest…'

'OK.'

'I mean, there are some, uh, powerful forces at work…'

'It's quiet, there's shade from the sun and it's the direction I wanted to go in anyway.'

'Right…'__

They tramped for hours, the leaf litter relatively gentle under their feet. Ylfronir could not help but speculate about where the orc was heading for. He himself had sought Fangorn Forest because he hoped to come into contact with the elusive Ents who lived deep in its leafy heart. Their customs precisely embodied the democratic principles which were so dear to him, and he would relish the chance to witness one of their legendary ent moots. It had long been a disappointment to him that Mirkwood lacked tree herders, and he was also hoping to broach that subject. But Ylfronir was fairly certain that Druluk had no interest in ents. And he was also pretty sure that ents would not take kindly to Druluk, but that was a problem he would deal with as it arose.

A soft sound started to impinge upon his consciousness. For some reason it stirred feelings of deep unease, even though he could not work out what it was. He paused for a moment, focussing his concentration and…

'One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them, in Mordor where....'

'What on Middle Earth are you playing at?' he exclaimed, turning on Druluk in angry disbelief

'Sorry…'

'Sorry? What are you trying to do, summon the Nazgul?' Ylfronir took a step towards Druluk, who backed away, saying:

'I didn't even realise I was thinking aloud…What d'you mean, summon the Nazgul?'

'Oh don't play the innocent!'

'It's just a rhyme I read somewhere…You know, one of those folk tales about magic rings….'

'Folk tales!?'

'Don't tell me you actually believe in the rings of power!' Druluk exclaimed, apparently in genuine surprise. Ylfronir took a deep breath…but then he started to become aware of something else, just on the edge of hearing. He filtered out the orc's protestations and listened hard. Horses. He felt the blood drain from his face

'They're coming.'

'Who's coming?' asked Druluk irritably

'The Nazgul! The nine riders!'

'Oh, you aren't going to get me like that…' Ylfronir ignored Druluk, and swung himself up onto the lowest branch of a nearby tree.

'Hey!' came Druluk's voice from below, now edged with fear, 'What are you doing?'

Ylfronir scrambled higher, and heard the orc struggling to gain a purchase on the bark below. He paused until a trembling in the leaves below indicated that Druluk had gained the lower branches at least. Then he climbed onwards, upwards, higher, higher until he reached the highest branch that could hold his weight. He draped his body over it, legs curled around underneath the branch, the soles of his feet pressed against the tree trunk and his hands gripping the branch in two separate places. Resting his forehead against the cool, smooth bark he looked down through the canopy to the forest floor below. He could still make it out, through the haze of green.

'What can you see?' came Druluk's voice from below, followed swiftly by an ominous snapping sound, some frantic rustling, then

'I'm OK, I'm OK…'

'Just. Keep. Quiet…' said Ylfronir through clenched teeth

Druluk did not reply. He had some sense then.

The sound of hooves was definitely approaching; though now that Ylfronir listened hard it seemed more like two horses than nine. Still, that was no reason for complacency. He hoped that Druluk had concealed himself adequately on his side of the tree.

The sound was much closer now. Ylfronir had to resist the temptation to move his head and get a glimpse of the horsemen. Just a few seconds more and…they came into his field of vision.

_Aragorn! _Ylfronir exhaled in surprise, only realising then that he had been holding his breath. But it was. Aragorn, leading a horse through Fangorn Forest, and followed by another horse, this time being led by…but it couldn't be…

'Legolas?' This time Ylfronir gasped the word aloud to himself. The elf below glanced up, and Ylfronir froze, hoping against hope that Druluk wouldn't choose this moment to attempt to gain a better vantage point. Legolas! Prince of Mirkwood! And Aragorn. What could possibly be going on? Aragorn moved out of his line of sight, and Legolas too continued, apparently satisfied that nothing untoward was going on in the tree above. But following behind them came two more figures. One, a dwarf whom Ylfronir did not recognise, but the other was a figure he knew very well indeed. Mithrandir, the wizard. Part of him cried out to jump down from the tree and find out what was happening. Something of immense importance must be taking place to have brought these companions together. But the last time he had met Aragorn was when Gollum had been given into the custody of the Mirkwood elves - the ranger had been the one who had captured Gollum in the first place. And during his last encounter with Legolas he had been waving a banner reading

'Would the royal family kindly demonstrate what qualifies them for their position of absolute power other than an accident of birth?' (it had taken forever to weave that), so he was uncertain whether Aragorn or Legolas would be entirely pleased to see him. Plus there was the problem of how to explain Druluk's presence. His curiosity would have to remain unsatisfied.

Ylfronir waited until the sound of footsteps had receded beyond his hearing, then jumped nimbly to the ground. Behind him, Druluk half slid half clambered out of the tree.

'Who was it?' he asked 'Not the _ringwraiths_ I take it?'

'No…'

'Oh!' exclaimed the orc, in mock surprise, 'and there I was expecting the foul fiends of Minas Morgul to tear us limb from limb…'

'Stop it!'

'Sorry, sorry, I just didn't realise you elves were so superstitious…'

'It's _real_. The rings of power exist, and the nine rings of men are borne by nine…

'….kings of old, yes, you don't need to tell me. I know all about the elven smiths and the seven for the dwarves and three for the elves and the One Ring to rule them all…' reeled off Druluk in a singsong voice, 'I just don't believe that a piece of metal can control a person.'

'But the rings of power are magical…'

'Oho, _magic!_ You should have _said_! I mean, if they're _magic_ then that explains _everything_…'

'You don't believe in magic either? I thought you worked for Saruman!'

An expression twisted in pain and anger flickered across Druluk's face at the mention of the name.

'Yes,' he muttered. Ylfronir opened his mouth to ask what made a wizard if there was no such thing as magic, but thought better of it. Druluk set off walking again, and Ylfronir followed in silence.

………………………………….

It was noon, and even in the heart of Fangorn Druluk knew it. He longed to stop for a rest, but didn't want to show any sign of weakness. He let his pace slow though, so that eventually Ylfronir overtook him. They were not following any kind of path, just weaving in and out of the trees. Druluk began to doubt that the elf had any clear destination in mind. His own destination he now knew. Even if it took him days to reach the edge of this maze of trees, he was heading back to Isengard. Purpose had come to him in the middle of the previous night, though as yet he had hardly dared to let the thought take shape in his mind. Now that the seed of the idea was sown he was content not to think of anything at all. It was enough to have intent, the details could come later. So it was with a sense of irritation that his thought processes were forcibly awakened by Ylfronir:

'Druluk, um,'

'Yes?'

'I hope you don't mind me asking, but I was wondering where exactly you were headed?'

Druluk did not answer

'Sorry, I know it is not my concern, but, ah, we are getting deeper and deeper into the forest and there are things you should probably know about…'

'Isengard.'

'Sorry?'

'I'm heading for Isengard.'

Ylfronir looked puzzled. He opened his mouth as if about to query this, but at that moment something caught his eye between the trees up ahead. He darted forward, exclaiming delightedly

'At last!'

Relieved that the interrogation seemed to be over for the moment, and mildly intrigued by what the elf could have spotted, Druluk followed.

Ylfronir was standing in front of a thicket of wiry thorn bushes which were growing around the foot of a huge oak tree. He was slightly hunched forward, hands on his knees, staring at the twiggy brambles intently. Druluk looked at the bushes but could see nothing unusual. Then the elf straightened his back and looked up into the tree above. He stood like this, studying the oak's branches for even longer than he had stared at the thorns. Just as Druluk was wondering whether to go over and tap him on the shoulder, or else abandon the elf to his lunatic tendencies and carry on walking, Ylfronir reached out one hand towards the trunk. To Druluk's astonishment the elf's fingers were trembling. He was about to speak, to ask the elf what on earth was going on, but his lips had barely parted when Ylfronir held up his other hand to silence him. Druluk became intensely conscious of an oppressive tension in the air as the elf's fingertips crept closer, closer, closer, a bare hairs breadth away…he touched the bark.

Nothing. Ylfronir relaxed visibly, and the tension dissipated in an instant

'What the hell was that about?' asked Druluk

Ylfronir didn't answer, but instead began to dextrously remove the thorny branches from the base of the tree. To Druluk's surprise the thicket was not rooted in the ground at all, the branches had been cunningly woven to appear like a clump of bushes. Within moments the elf had revealed what lay behind them – a hollow crevice in the base of the wide, ancient trunk. Druluk stepped closer to peer inside. There seemed to be a pile of evenly shaped stones tucked right into the tree. Ylfronir drew one out. Seeing Druluk's questioning face he handed it over, and Druluk saw that it was a flask of some kind – roughly hewn from stone, with a leather stopper. He shook it, and heard liquid splashing inside.

'What's this?'

'Entwash,' answered Ylfronir, as if that was all the explanation necessary. He was reaching inside the tree again. This time his arm disappeared right up to his shoulder, and Druluk wondered how deep this opening went. The elf pulled out another piece of stone, but this was a flat stone tablet. 'Thank you!' he grinned up at the tree, and Druluk wondered once again about his companion's sanity. But as the elf studied his prize, his face fell. He knelt down, and looked as though he were about to put it back. But Druluk had had enough playacting.

'Ylfronir!' he exclaimed in frustration, 'what's going on?'

The elf sighed and dropped his head back to look up at the forest canopy. Without looking at Druluk he asked:

'Have you ever heard of the Ents?'

'The whats?'

'Tree herders, Shepherds of the Forest, first proponents of universal suffrage…well….universal as far as trees go I suppose…'

'Not ringing any bells.'

'Well, they are an ancient race and this forest is their home. I came here with the intention of meeting some of them. I've been looking out for signs of them all day. This tree is clearly some kind of storage post, and this stone here…' he handed the tablet to Druluk 'is obviously some sort of message. Now it might just be saying, 'hands off the entwash', or 'drink responsibly', but it might equally have provided some clue about where I might find them…but I can't read it. I suppose it's only to be expected they wouldn't use the common script….I suppose I should have thought of that…'

'Urgent…announcement …. All…ummm, don't know this next character… summoning …. meeting … important… something … decide .... ummm …. war…' Druluk's voice trailed off as he saw Ylfronir staring at him in astonishment.

'You can read it?'

'I can read a lot of things.'

'But how? And you said you'd never heard of the Ents!'

'I hadn't. I just thought of them as the really annoying people who liked to write everything by scratching it into stones which are bloody heavy to carry up the stairs…' Druluk regretted this reply, but Ylfronir was barely paying attention.

'War? You said war…the ents are going to war? With whom?'

'I can't read it properly, I don't know half these characters…'

'Try!'

'Look, honestly, I don't know! I reckon this is the crucial character, but I've no idea what it means…'

Ylfronir took the tablet from him,

'Oh, so you reckon you can do better than me now?'

'Which character did you say?'

'That one.'

'The one which looks a bit like a hand?'

'The one which looks like a…'

They both realised the significance simultaneously.

'…hand,' finished Druluk. His eyes were drawn irresistibly to look down at his breastplate. Muddy, dented, reddish brown patches which might be rust or…he suddenly thought….Rashgrul's blood…but the white hand of Saruman grinned through from underneath.

Ylfronir seemed unwilling to break the silence, so Druluk spoke first

'Well, I suppose it's to be expected.'

'Look, it might mean something else entirely….'

'What, like, um, the elves?'

Ylfronir said nothing, so Druluk went on:

'Anyway, it's deserved. Saruman is an evil man.'

_An evil man with a hundred thousand orcs who will die before him._ The thought burned in his mind, but he did not speak the words. He glanced at the elf, but Ylfronir's expression betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking.

They stood for some moments, not meeting each other's gaze, then Ylfronir silently knelt at the tree trunk and replaced the tablet. Then he began to weave the thorn bushes back how he had found them. Druluk realised he was still holding the bottle of entwash, and he almost opened his mouth to say something, but words stuck in his throat, and he slipped it into his pack instead.

Eventually Ylfronir stood up.

'Do you still want to go to Isengard?' he asked, matter of factly.

'Yes'. As he answered, Druluk realised that though his mind was in turmoil, that particular resolution was firmer than ever.

'Then I shall go with you to the border of Saruman's realm. If the Ents are going to go to war with Saruman I may have more luck finding them in that direction.'

Druluk registered this slowly, without seeming to hear

'If we do come across any Ents, I'll tell them you are no longer in the service of the White Wizard, you should be quite safe.'

The elf spoke earnestly, but Druluk was sceptical about how realistic his statement actually was. Still, having the elf with him wasn't going to make his situation any worse.

'If you say so,' he said, and set off into the trees.

…………………………….

Over the next few days they came across no more signs of entish activity. At last, on the morning of the third day they came to the edge of the forest.

'Here we are!' said Druluk triumphantly, but squinting as they emerged into full sunlight.

'Are you sure?' said Ylfronir doubtfully, 'I can't see the Tower of Orthanc…'

'Oh, Saruman's domain extends far beyond the Tower. Trust me. The thing is, it's all underground.'

'Ah, cunning,'

'Well, that practically is Saruman's middle name. Now, somewhere round here there should be an entrance to a small tunnel. The tunnel leads to his main underground hall. When I worked in there we would use the tunnel to nip out to the forest edge and set a few traps…'

'Traps?' asked Ylfronir in alarm

'Oh, for rabbits and similar. Snacks really,'

Ylfronir's expression remained horrified. Druluk sighed

'We had to eat, Ylfronir.'

'Well yes, but…What was that?' The elf pointed to a collection of scrubby bushes some twenty yards away

'Hey! Well done, I remember now – that's where the entrance is!'

'No, I thought I saw some movement…'

A huge figure crashed out of the bushes and hurtled towards them, screaming some incoherent war cry. Ylfronir drew his bow but hesitated to fire, as Druluk was moving towards this newcomer, gesturing urgently. The orc, for it seemed to be an orc, but larger than any Ylfronir had ever seen, thundered past Druluk and was heading straight towards him. There was no time to fire now, he cast his bow aside and ducked as the massive orc reached him, swinging a mace through the air. He heard Druluk shouting as he rolled on the ground, dodging hammer like blows which made deep indentations into the turf. Then a searing pain tore through him as he managed to avoid the mace but a kick from one of the orc's heavily armoured boots glanced off the side of his head. Just before he slid into unconsciousness he had a fleeting sense of Druluk reaching him...


	3. On the brink

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

……Heat. Searing, scorching heat, and a chemical smell in his nostrils.

'I don't believe in an afterlife…' mumbled Ylfronir, as he gradually regained consciousness. 'And if this is Hell, it really isn't fair, I didn't mean to let…'

'This isn't Hell'

Ylfronir opened his eyes. Druluk's face, lit by a flickering red glow bent over him.

'Are you sure?'

'I see your encounter with Jorrig hasn't blunted your razor sharp humour.'

'Jorrig?'

Druluk stood up and gestured behind him. Ylfronir raised himself onto his elbows, the movement sending a nauseating wave of pain through his head, to see the huge orc who had attacked him sitting a couple of yards away. Ylfronir shrank back

'What the hell is going on?'

'Jorrig was guarding the entrance to the tunnel, he was just doing his job…'

'And now…?

'Now we have come to an understanding.'

'Oh. Good.'

Druluk rummaged in his bag and produced a stone bottle

'Have some entwash…'

'You _stole_ entwash?'

'Just drink it…'

'You stole _entwash_?'

'Ylfronir, we are going to have to have a long discussion about the greater good, and I am going to win.'

Ylfronir tried to scowl but ended up wincing in pain. Druluk held out the bottle.

Finding himself too exhausted to protest further the elf took it. Druluk helped him to sit up, leaning against the wall.

'Where are we, anyway?'

'Home…' said Druluk quietly, then, 'we're deep in the complex of caves and tunnels underneath Isengard. This is actually a dormitory for the Uruk Hai, Jorrig was good enough to let us…'

'Uruk Hai?'

'Yes, Jorrig is …'

'_dormitory__?_'

'If you'd let me finish…

'I'm _dead_…'

'I thought we covered this…'

'Druluk, I've got to get out of here…'

'We're perfectly safe! I've explained to Jorrig that you mean us no harm. The little…incident earlier was just a misunderstanding…' Druluk turned to Jorrig as if for confirmation, and the Uruk Hai obliged, in a slow monotone

'urr, yer, sorry…', and made as if to come closer

'That's quite alright!' exclaimed Ylfronir quickly, trying to back further into the stone wall.

'Jorrig will tell his friends what's happening when they get back,' said Druluk confidently, 'and it'll be fine. It'll be fine.'

Ylfronir took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He took a long gulp of entwash and felt its revitalising force begin to spread through his body.

'Druluk?'

'Yes?'

'What exactly _is_ happening?'

'Don't you remember?' said Druluk, loudly, glancing at Jorrig 'you're an escaped prisoner from Loth Lorien looking for shelter for a few days.'

'I'm _what?_'

Druluk's face pleaded with him to play along

'I'm…I'm…on the run from the Golden Wood…' he conceded, glaring at Druluk, who mouthed

'Thanks!'

'What did you do?' Jorrig seemed intrigued

'I, uh, well, I was involved in an underground resistance movement to overthrow the ruling classes…' Ylfronir tried to be as truthful as possible under the circumstances.

'Huh?'

'I am a firm believer in democracy…'

'Dem – o –cra –see?'

'Yes. Democracy is where everybody has a say in choosing the people who are given power to make important decisions. Haven't you ever wondered whether Saruman is really…'

'I think what Ylfronir is _trying_ to say,' cut in Druluk, 'is that due to an unfortunate misunderstanding involving the Lady Galadriel he is no longer welcome in the realm of Lorien and…'

'No, that's not what I was saying…_ow__…'_

'Oh, was that your foot?' Druluk radiated concern, 'I _am_ sorry…. Jorrig, would you mind possibly going to see if there's any food to be had, I'm starving.'

The Uruk rose to his feet and trundled off along the passage

As soon as he was out of sight, Druluk sprang to Ylfronir's side and began talking in an urgent half whisper

'I know you didn't plan to come with me this far, but I couldn't just leave you unconscious on the edge of Fangorn…'

'…no, of course not, not when there was the possibility of ensuring my safety by surrounding me with ten thousand bloodthirsty orcs…'

Druluk drew back sharply.

'Well, if that's the way you see it…'

'Druluk, don't do this. Look, you've saved my life, and I'm grateful...but orcs and elves are not allies. It's an ugly fact but it's a fact and this...' Ylfronir dabbed at the gash on the side of his head with a finger 'rather proves the point.'

'Oh. That _proves the point_ does it?' Druluk's voice was steely with repressed anger. 'So what does this prove?' He plucked at the blankets on which Ylfronir lay, and gestured around the cave like chamber they were in.

'Jorrig has taken you into his home…_welcomed_ you into his home, even given you his _bed…_'

Ylfronir tried desperately to look more grateful than he was feeling for this particular sacrifice

'And now he's gone off to look for food for us, without complaint, despite the fact that he's tired after a long day…'

'…beating up elves?'

'When are you going to let that go?'

'When my head stops feeling like it's been used as an anvil.'

Druluk got up wordlessly and went to sit on the opposite side of the cave. He rested his chin on his knees. There was something in his stance, in the fierce determination with which he glared at the floor that, despite the pain and anger he felt, Ylfronir was intrigued. A thought which had been niggling at the back of his mind surfaced…

'You deserted your company. Why come back here?'

'That's none of your concern.'

'Well, however indirectly, it's led to _me_ being here and…

'You can go any time. Stay until you've regained your strength then be on your way.'

'Fine.'

Ylfronir rested the crown of his head on the wall of the cave and stared into the darkness above. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care what happened to Druluk, that his priority was getting out of this dank hole and as far away from Isengard as possible. But every train of thought kept looping back to speculate on what Druluk had planned. So intent was he on working out the possibilities that he barely heard Druluk speak,

'I'm going to kill Saruman.'

'What?' Ylfronir jerked his head to stare at him, ignoring the pain

'I am going to kill Saruman,' said the orc, enunciating each word with deliberate clarity.

'Druluk, he's a wizard. He's the most powerful wizard in Middle Earth. You haven't got a hope.'

'I don't believe in magic, Ylfronir…'

'You don't have to _believe_ in something for it to have power…'

'Don't you?'

'What?'

'Saruman's only power stems from belief. Belief that we orcs have to do his bidding, belief that our endless suffering, our unfulfilled dreams, even our very lives are as nothing compared to his desires, belief that there can be no hope, belief that…'

'…he will kill you if you disobey him?'

'No!' exclaimed Druluk, in anguished tones, 'he won't! Some brainwashed minion who _believes_ all the wrong things will kill me when I try. But I am going to try.'

Ylfronir held Druluk's stare and saw grim determination in his eyes. He saw something else as well. Something he recognised. A gleam of hope, tempered by the knowledge that it was a ludicrous hope, but burning nonetheless.

'What if,' said Ylfronir slowly, 'there was another way of going about it…'

'Oh, you mean you've thought of an anti Saruman song? Or a catchy yet bitingly sarcastic slogan? Sorry, Ylfronir, I know you mean well but that's not going to cut it here.'

'And a lone assassination attempt is?'

'At least I'd be _doing_ something.'

'Risking your life for something you believe in?'

'Precisely!'

'And the difference between your beliefs and the beliefs of the orc who shoots you down….?'

'My beliefs are _right_…'

Once again they stared at one another, locked in a tangle of indignation, ideology and instinct.

Druluk looked away first. He got up, walked over to the cave entrance and stuck his head out into the passageway. Ylfronir watched him.…and felt the glimmerings of an idea stir in the back of his mind.

'Druluk?'

The orc didn't turn round as he answered

'Nothing you can say will stop me.'

'I know. I was just wondering when you were planning to, um, put your plan into action?'

'As soon as possible.'

'Could you perhaps wait until I'm gone? I mean, without you I don't stand much chance of getting out of here, and let's face it, you aren't going to survive…'

'Fine.'

…………………………

Druluk leant his elbows on the stone balustrade and looked down into the cavernous factory hall. Smoke from the many furnaces blew into his face and currents of hot air washed over him. The clamour of a thousand hammers and the hissing and spitting of molten metal filled his ears. He watched the throng of orcs working below, looking for patterns in the chaos – purpose in the seemingly random movements. It was almost hypnotic. For a moment, staring at the swirling crowd, he forgot the thought which had been on his mind since the moment in the forest on the banks of the Anduin when Rashgrul had died in his arms…

'Druluk!'

Ylfronir's voice brought everything back. He spun round on his heel, irritably

'What? Are you ready to go yet?'

3 days had passed since he and Jorrig had dragged the elf's unconscious body down into the relative safety of the caves. In those 3 days he had had plenty of time to regret that act of…what? Friendship? Rash stupidity it seemed now. He and Ylfronir had barely spoken since he had revealed his plan.

'I am ready to go as it happens.'

'Alright,' Druluk tried to keep his voice emotionless, though his pulse had started to race. Finally his plans could be put into action! It must be the anticipation of achieving his goal that was making his legs tremble…

'But before I go, I'd like to say goodbye to Jorrig.'

Druluk forced himself to focus on the present moment

'OK…I think he's working in the main armoury…'

'Then we'll go there.'

'Are you sure? I mean, there'll be loads of, what was your phrase, _bloodthirsty_ orcs there….?'

'Lead the way.'

As they walked down the stone passage, Druluk became increasingly aware that something was wrong. He couldn't quite figure out what, but as they reached the thick wooden door which opened onto armoury it struck him.

'Why is it so quiet?'

'Is it?' asked Ylfronir innocently

'The armoury isn't just a store room, it's where weapons are sharpened…there's a dozen whetstones in there and they make a hell of a noise…'

'Maybe they're having a break?'

Druluk looked at Ylfronir with suspicion. The elf's demeanour was too calm, his smile too assured.

'What have you done?'

'Me?'

'Whatever it is, it's not going to make a scrap of difference.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'You realise that it could be quiet because Saruman is taking a tour of inspection? Are you sure you want me to open this door?'

'I think I'm willing to take that risk.'

That settled it; the elf was up to something. But Druluk wasn't about to play guessing games. He thrust open the door, strode into the room and stopped dead.

Faces. Hundreds upon hundreds of orcs stood before him expectantly, in semicircular rows radiating out from the door. He stood, rooted to the ground in shock, staring at the sea which stretched away into the furthermost corners of the room. He dimly registered the fact that Jorrig was sitting in the front row…

'Greetings, brothers!'

Ylfronir? The elf had followed him, and now addressed the assembled crowd.

'For despite appearances we – that is to say orcs and elves, and of course the Uruk Hai as well – share ties of blood!'

The faces in the first few rows of the crowd were starting to look distinctly nonplussed.

'Ties of blood indeed, which, ah, mean that we, ah, well, anyway, you don't know me, but trust me when I say that today we stand united by a common foe!'

Deathly silence filled the cavern, broken only by a sneeze from somewhere in the back.

'I said, today we stand united by a common foe!' repeated Ylfronir, gesturing rather ineffectually with a clenched fist. Again, no response, apart from general foot shuffling. Druluk couldn't help admiring the elf's persistence, as he continued:

'And who, you are wondering, might this foe be? Brothers, it is…'

Ylfronir paused dramatically, drew a deep breath and…Druluk suddenly had a premonition of the next few seconds. Granted the elf had managed to organise all this behind his back, but from the expressions of those orcs he could see in the dim light, Ylfronir had few friends in this room. He knew that he couldn't let Ylfronir say what he was about to, and it was almost reflexive to step forward and say it for him:

'Saruman.'

A gasp, then a hiss of whispered exclamation which crescendoed to a hostile roar within moments. Druluk stepped in front of Ylfronir and shouted for quiet.

It required a monumental effort not to make a bolt for the door, and with part of his consciousness he was willing Ylfronir to do just that. This was about to turn nasty…

'Quiet!' boomed a deep voice. Who had spoken? The tumult continued, Druluk looked around, bewildererd…

'QUIET!' came the voice again, even louder than before, and this time the raised voices started to diminish.

'Go on, Druluk,' With a start, Druluk recognised the speaker. It was Jorrig. But he had no time to come to terms with this new development. As the voices died down the silence grew, and demanded to be filled. Druluk felt his mouth opening almost involuntarily. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he said it anyway

'Thank you!'

A pause, just long enough for his brain to start catching up, and

'Please hear me out, I shall be brief.'

Once again a pause, the pause of one about to dive into a pool of unknown depth…but then wasn't he already in free fall?

'Saruman is indeed our enemy.'

This time the statement met only expectant silence, and he pressed on

'We owe him nothing, he owes us everything. We give him our all, he gives us the barest minimum. Our labour, our sacrifice brings him great strength yet he treats us as though we are worthless.'

Druluk scanned those faces which he could see. The stares gave no indication how his speech was being received.

'He tells us a war is coming. So we sharpen our swords, we beat the dents out of our shields and we prepare to lay down our lives…for what? I can't tell you. And he won't tell you. A great and glorious kingdom? A noble and idealistic principle? A better life for us and our children? Does anyone here believe that that is what we are going to die for? Maybe you're right. But maybe _I'm _right, and maybe the only thing we'll be dying for is one man's lust for power.' Druluk paused, his mouth dry. A lone voice called from out of the darkness:

'Traitor! Saruman is our friend!. When have elves done anything but drive us from the woods? When have men welcomed us into their towns and cities? Saruman is the only one who has ever been on our side!'

Druluk thought he heard whispering beginning in the far corners of the room. He knew how quickly this could cascade into chaos. With a final glance at Ylfronir, intended to combine 'get the hell out of here' with 'look what a mess you've got me into', he plunged on

'To Saruman we are nothing more than trained dogs. Trained, even _bred_,' he spat. 'I have read of our history. I have read Saruman's own history, his own treatise on the matter of orc subjugation. And his notes on the breeding of Uruk Hai.' A murmer flickered round the room at this. Druluk was beginning to feel light headed. But he didn't have that much left to say. If he could just finish conveying his message before they fell on him then at least he would have died for something.

'Do you know how many died in his…_experiments_? How many of our brothers suffered untold agonies as he sought to discover the limitations of our very bodies and choose the strongest, the most resilient to forge his new breed? And when he had his Uruk Hai, do you know how many he slaughtered when they had barely drawn breath because they did not meet his exacting standards?'

Druluk felt his throat constrict. At last the horrific discovery he had made those weeks ago in the Tower of Orthanc had an outlet, but his very voice was betraying him now. The image of that battlefield swam again before his eyes. The trees a hazy background, the screaming muted in his memory, but the weight of Rashgrul solid and real against his legs. The thought of the orcs who died by Saruman's own hand appalled him, but he could not conceive fully that horror. The horror of Rashgrul's death and that of the rest of his company was real, and made worse by his certainty that to Saruman those deaths were trivial. He swayed slightly on his feet, and it took a monumental effort to bring his mind back to the present. But someone else was talking:

'It's true.' The rumbling monotone of Jorrig had broken the silence, and all heads turned towards him. 'My first memory is of Saruman standing over me, sword in hand. And he struck the Uruk Hai beside me down.'

'Attack! Attack! The Tower of Orthanc is under attack!' Someone was running down the corridor outside the armoury, shouting as he came. A moment later the door burst open to reveal an orc, clad in full battle gear with the insignia denoting the rank of captain on his helmet.

'Come on!' he roared, 'we need all the weapons we have! Arm yourselves and bring the rest to the main hall!'

Nobody moved. The crowd had looked to Druluk for their response, and he had stood stock still.

'What is going on?' demanded the Captain. Ylfronir stepped forward, righteous anger radiating from every pore

'These orcs are choosing to express their discontentment with their , their _enslavement_ , by peacefully withholding their labour until such a time as …'

Druluk laid a restraining hand on Ylfronir's arm, and said, in tones of cool authority:

'We're on strike.'

The captain was staring at the elf in bewilderment. Unsure whether he had even heard, Druluk repeated:

'We aren't going to fight.'

At last the captain found something he knew how to respond to:

'Then you must die…'

Druluk turned away, apparently unconcerned, though his heart was beating like a fly's wings buzzing desperately against a window pane, and addressed the throng:

'You see! Saruman has us just where he wants us, ready to raise our hands against each other before we raise them against him!'

The crowd was on his side now, and they nodded their agreement. One voice shouted

'Death to Saruman!' and others took up the chant. The captain looked horrified.

Druluk smiled, then raised his arms for silence. The chanting died down.

'Brothers, I have realised something. If we kill Saruman then we are fulfilling his decree that we should be killers. Fighting machines, good for nothing but violence. I say we should not sink to that level. I say we are more than that. We can bring Saruman down simply by not obeying him. Without us he is powerless.'

'_Apart from the magic_' muttered Ylfronir

'Without us, he is powerless!' repeated Druluk, jabbing Ylfronir in the ribs with an elbow.

This new idea was not greeted with enthusiasm, but a certain grudging acceptance emerged. Jorrig's fierce glare may have had something to do with that. The captain, astonished and still fuming at having been disobeyed, marched out of the room, no doubt to fetch his superior. Then Jorrig rose to his feet and came over to Druluk and Ylfronir

'Um, Druluk,' he said quietly,

'Yes?' hissed Druluk out of the side of his mouth, as he kept his attention focussed on the crowd.

'If the Tower's under attack, we're not going to be very safe down here. Shouldn't we think about manning the defences, if only for ourselves?'

Druluk didn't reply straight away. He looked at the rows of orcs ranged before him. They looked like an army. They always looked like an army. They wore breastplates and helmets as a matter of course, even when working in the foundry. And they were sitting in the armoury, swords, pikes, battleaxes hanging from racks on the walls. And it made him feel sick.

'No.' he replied, simply, 'This is not our war. Let Orthanc fall.'

Jorrig nodded slowly. 'What are your orders?'

Druluk flinched, but this was not the time to raise the question of leadership. Even Ylfronir would understand that, wouldn't he? Druluk glanced across at the elf, and saw that he was staring at him, an undefineable expression on his face. Jorrig raised his eyebrows as if to say 'well?'

'We should leave here. Right now. You will lead the main party out by one of the tunnels. I'll take a smaller party and stay, see if I can persuade any more to join us…'

'You won't find that many more,' Jorrig replied, 'Saruman's mobilised most of the army to move against the men of the Riddermark at Helm's Deep. And these,' he gestured at the assembled throng 'were the only ones of those remaining who I could persuade to come to this little talk. The others didn't want to know.'

'Point taken,' said Druluk, 'but I'd still like to stay behind a while. You take the others and wait for me when you get a safe distance away.'

'Where should we go?'

'Stay away from Fangorn whatever happens. Head for….head for the Gap of Rohan, Ylfronir knows the way.' The elf started, then shook his head

'I'm staying with you.'

'Ylfronir, we haven't got time…'

'…to argue, and I'm not going to be persuaded.'

Druluk sighed, and grudgingly nodded his consent. Then he turned back to his audience.

'We're leaving,' he bellowed, over the conversations which had sprung up everywhere. 'Follow Jorrig!'

The orcs began to shuffle towards the door, some of them picking up weapons from the storage racks as they went.

'Leave them!' heads turned to him questioningly.

'Leave the weapons!'

'But…' began Ylfronir and Jorrig in unison

'No weapons!' Druluk felt his voice cracking under the strain. 'Leave them,' he repeated hoarsely. There was a moment, a split second when there was tangible indecision in the room. Then the sound of metal dropped on stone rang out, and the crowd surged out of the door, Jorrig with them.


	4. The Tower of Orthanc

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

In what seemed a ludicrously short time the room was empty. Ylfronir and Druluk stood at one end of the cavernous armoury. Druluk looked dazed. Ylfronir was both terrified and exhilarated. He was having extreme difficulty maintaining a clear train of thought, but one idea was fighting for his attention. The rest of the vast confusion of notions whirling around his brain could wait, but why had Druluk elected to stay? He was pretty sure he knew.

'Are you going to give up your knife?'

'What?' Druluk looked at Ylfronir in confusion, as if he had forgotten that he was there.

'It's a weapon, isn't it?'

'It's more of a tool.'

'Oh, right.'

Druluk didn't seem to register the sarcasm

'Well, my bow's got some sentimental value, and this knife, well, you can't complain about that, and…'

Druluk clearly wasn't listening. Ylfronir tried another tactic

'Mind you, you'll need your knife, where you're going.' That got his attention alright.

'What do you mean?'

'You know what I mean. You're going to kill Saruman, aren't you? After your speech about non violence and everything. Hypocrisy doesn't cover it, this is beyond hypocrisy, this is….'

Druluk started walking away

'You're going to die, you know that?'

Ylfronir overtook the orc and stood in the doorway, blocking his path

'Did you hear me, I said did you know that you are going to die?'

Drulk tried to duck under Ylfronir's arm, but the elf shoved him back into the armoury

'You're going to die, and who's going to lead those orcs to safety?'

'Jorrig'

'Jorrig will wait for your orders. He'll wait, and wait, and wait, and the Ents will appear on the horizon, and he'll wait some more, and those orcs will be wiped out, and that will be the end.'

'They're not stupid.'

'Oh, right, yeah, in one speech you've taught them to think for themselves?'

'They know how to think for themselves.'

'But they haven't _realised_ it yet! And they won't realise it without your help!'

Ylfronir resented being the one who sounded desperate. Druluk's calm expression exuded reasonableness.

'Let me past.'

'No.'

'Let me past.'

'Do you think I orchestrated this whole thing, this meeting, as some sort of elaborate obstacle to stop you killing Saruman? Nothing was further from my mind! But I thought that if you could raise a mutiny then you'd stand a much better chance of success. I knew you had all that righteous anger going on, I thought you'd be able to persuade them round to joining you. But when you started making that speech, hey, you even had me fooled into thinking you had principles, that you had a vision of a future for your people unmarred by violence. But now it seems that that was pure fabrication – a means to get rid of those orcs so that you could continue with your personal vendetta…'

'...Yes it's personal!' shouted Druluk, 'and it has nothing to do with you!'

He seized a long sword from where some orc or Uruk had dropped it on the floor.

'So I have no principles? Then this won't surprise you in the slightest, bloodthirsty orc that I am!'

Druluk swung the blade up in a crooked circle, aiming at the elf's throat. At the last moment, Ylfronir ducked to one side, and it smashed into the doorpost. Druluk seized this opportunity to force his way past, dropping the sword as he ran.

Cursing, Ylfronir chased after him

'At least keep your promise to me!' he shouted desperately,

'See me to the borders of Isengard before you do it!'

Druluk didn't even turn round.

The orc ran faster than Ylfronir had expected, but he couldn't outrun an elf. Still, Ylfronir held back. He didn't quite know what he'd do if he caught up with Druluk, so thought it better just to keep the orc in sight while he considered what to do next. They ran along passageway after passageway, and Ylfronir began to wonder whether even Druluk knew where he was heading. This all might be a ploy to throw him off the trail. He quickened his pace and narrowed the gap between them.

In all the stone tunnels they ran through, they saw no orcs or Uruk hai. They passed entrances to larger rooms, in which Ylfronir caught glimpses of scraps of bedding, these must be dormitories like the one he had stayed in. He wondered at the sheer enormity of this underground domain…and shivered slightly at the thought of the size of the army which right now might be engaging in a bloody battle with the men of Rohan.

Up ahead, Druluk's pace had slowed. They had been running flat out for some time, surely he would be worn out by now. But for some reason the orc was staring at the ceiling. Eventually he stopped dead. Ylfronir jogged over

'What's up there?'

'Orthanc' answered Druluk, brusquely

As Ylfronir tilted his head to look at the roof of the passage, a mere 6 or 7 inches above his scalp, he saw the edges of a trapdoor.

Druluk jumped, stretching his arm above his head. His fingertips just grazed the trapdoor's surface. Ylfronir raised his arm, and braced it against the door. It gave slightly. He opened it a little way, and Druluk gasped excitedly, then he let it slam shut.

'I'll make you a deal,' he said, looking down at the orc.

'I'll help you get through there if you help me climb up after you.'

'What, you reckon you'll be able to persuade me better when we're up there?'

'No.'

Druluk waited, questioningly,

I'm going to help you.'

'Why?'

'Because with my help there's a chance….just a chance, mind you, that this won't be in vain.'

'OK.'

'OK? OK?' fumed Ylfronir silently to himself, as he knelt under the now open trapdoor, Druluk using his shoulders as stepping stones. Sudden, agonising pressure on one… then it was released, as the orc scrambled into the room above.

'There's a rope ladder here!' he called, 'I'll let it down for you.'

'Thanks,' said Ylfronir, scowling at the wall. What the hell had come over him? What on Middle Earth was he doing in this hole in the first place? Why hadn't he made his escape with the others…

…something heavy thwacked against his head. He staggered to one side, slightly stunned…

'Oh, sorry, did I get you?'

Druluk's head appeared over the edge of the trapdoor, a picture of concern. Ylfronir gave him his most icy glare, then seized the slightly slimy ropes of the ladder and hauled himself up.

..................

Druluk knew every inch of the various floors of the Tower which lay beneath the ground, and every twisting stairwell which linked them. He led Ylfronir confidently across the libraries where he had spent so much of his life, with barely a glance at the contents, but the elf was clearly fascinated. Every so often he would pause to examine some scroll covered in elven script, and Druluk would deliberately start walking faster.

'I hope this doesn't get burnt or flooded,' said Ylfronir, tucking the latest scroll he had looked at into his belt. 'I don't imagine the Ents are going to think much of all this paper…'

'I don't care.'

'But you said that you'd read Orc history. There must be some of that down here…'

'Oh, there is.'

'And don't you want to learn more?'

'I know enough.'

Ylfronir fell silent at last, but now Druluk felt compelled to speak

'I know, for instance, that Orcs are supposed to be elves. That long ago, people like you were enslaved, tortured, brutalised into people like us. I expect you've heard the story. That little 'ties of blood' phrase you threw into your speech…'

'I'm sorry…'

'For the speech? Or for what happened? Because,' he said, plunging on without waiting for Ylfronir to reply, 'you know what? It didn't happen. We aren't some sort of twisted mockery of elvishness, we aren't bitter and resentful of what you have, because we have lives and history of our own. Enslaved, yes. Tortured, yes, but that doesn't define us right down to the way we look! Except that people like Saruman try to make us think it does. And people like Saruman write the history books. Do you think you know what beauty is, Ylfronir?'

Ylfronir opened his mouth, and then seemed to reconsider. Eventually he answered 'Democracy…'

'That's one kind of beauty, yes, but you know what I'm talking about.'

'I...'

'Beauty is all well and good when it's firmly held in the eye of the beholder. But it's when people start using beauty as some kind of yard stick by which to judge right from wrong – fair from foul – that you've got to start worrying.'

'But beauty is, as you just said, up to an individual to define…'

'Should be. But is? Come on Ylfronir, don't kid yourself.'

They continued for a while in thoughtful silence. Whatever he had said to Ylfronir, Druluk did feel some regret that these vast stockpiles of information, whether fact or fiction, wise words or incoherent ramblings, would probably be lost forever. But that was just a niggling concern at the back of his mind. There were far more important things to focus on. He still didn't have a plan, as such, though he hardly even admitted that to himself, and wasn't about to ask Ylfronir for suggestions. The presence of the elf was worrying him too – partly because he was still not quite sure what his motives were – it was quite possible that Ylfronir was planning to overpower him and get him to safety out of some misguided sense of duty. And if Ylfronir was genuinely going to help him then it was quite possible that the elf was going to die, almost certain in fact. And this was making him feel guilty.

They had reached the top level of the vaults. Above them, reached by a single staircase, was the ground floor. Here they were bound to encounter guards. Glancing at Ylfronir, he saw the elf's eyes were closed, and he had the same look of intense concentration he had worn when listening for the Riders of Rohan on that fateful night by the outskirts of Fangorn Forest. Druluk waited patiently until Ylfronir's eyes snapped open.

'I can't hear anything. Something might be deadening the sound, but I don't think there's anyone above us.'

'Let's hope you're right.'

Druluk began to ascend the stairs, knife in hand. Behind him he was aware of Ylfronir setting an arrow to his bow. As he reached the top step, Druluk had a sudden sense of dread – not in anticipation of seeing Saruman once more, he had thought about that long enough and his feelings in that department had gone somewhere beyond white hot anger to a numb region at the other side, but at the realisation that he might have to kill an Orc or Uruk Hai. Why hadn't he considered this before? Of course the guards would be orcs. Idiot! He considered asking Ylfronir to go first, and hated himself for it. He was at the top step now, Ylfronir close behind, he could hear the elf breathing. Druluk gritted his teeth and shoved at the door.

It gave more easily than he had anticipated, and he stepped forward awkwardly onto a polished stone floor. The air was cool, the room was quiet. Druluk spun round, craning his neck desperately, but saw no guards anywhere.

'They must have gone to man the defences further out,' he said, expecting his voice to echo, but it was just swallowed up by the vast, high ceilinged chamber which formed the entrance hall to Orthanc. 'Saruman's going to regret that…'

Ylfronir didn't reply, he was listening again.

'It's definitely the Ents who are attacking Isengard,' he said after a moment. 'But from what I can hear they haven't got too near the Tower yet. There's a lot of activity off to that side,' he gestured towards the North, 'lots of crashing, and rushing water…'

'The dam!' exclaimed Druluk 'They'll flood the whole valley!'

'Can the underground tunnels and chambers be sealed off?'

'No…I just hope Jorrig's got out…'

'He'll have got out…'

It was meaningless of course, but Druluk was vaguely comforted to hear Ylfronir say that. He strode towards the stairwell which led to the upper storeys. Saruman was bound to be observing the battle from the roof.

They climbed the stairs as quickly and silently as they could. Ylfronir was making so little noise that Druluk kept turning round to check he was still behind him. At every floor they paused, crouching in a shadowy corner, so that Ylfronir could listen out for danger, or for their goal. But they met no guards, and there was no sign of Saruman. 

As they reached the twelfth floor, however, Ylfronir held up a hand and Druluk paused, expectantly. When the elf opened his eyes, he pointed simply upwards. Druluk raised his eyebrows in a question which he already knew the answer to, and Ylfronir nodded confirmation. As Druluk moved towards the staircase to level thirteen – not the roof, but if Saruman was anything he was unpredictable – the elf grabbed his shoulder to restrain him. Druluk turned, and met Ylfronir's gaze. He owed him this much, to pay attention to this last effort at detention. And he owed him something else as well.

'_Go_,' he mouthed silently. '_I can take it from here…'_

The elf shook his head, and released his grip on Druluk's arm.

The stone was freezing cold, and the sweat on Druluk's palms made it feel like melting ice as he pressed himself against the wall. On this level, the stairwell was walled in, and there was a small landing with a narrow archway which led to the main chamber. Druluk had crept over to the edge of this doorway, and was trying to get into a position where he could see into the room. Ylfronir had chosen to stand beside the opposite half of the archway. The split second when the elf had darted across the opening to reach the other side had almost given Druluk a heart attack.

Edging sideways, a fraction of a millimetre at a time, Druluk manoeuvred his head so that one eye had a view past the stonework. And there he was. Saruman. Standing, thankfully, with his back to the archway, clad in an almost blindingly white cloak. The wizard was apparently enthralled by something visible through a slit shaped window in the tower wall – no doubt the battle raging below. Druluk inched his hand down to his belt, and closed his shaking fingers around the handle of his knife…

'Master,'

What was this? A voice Druluk had never heard before – someone else was in the room with Saruman…

'Master, what are your orders?'

A second figure came into Druluk's line of sight. But it wasn't the orc or Uruk he was expecting, it was a thin, stooping, pale faced man who cowered slightly as he got closer to the wizard.

'The Ents have almost breached the dam, master…all but a hundred or so orcs have fled.'

The wizard made no reply

'Master, perhaps now would be a good time to smite the Ents down? You could summon up a lightning storm, or…'

'_Silence_'

Now Saruman turned, to glare at his unfortunate minion, and Druluk saw the wizard's face

'Master, I…'

Saruman struck the grovelling figure with the back of his right hand. The blow was feeble, even Druluk, peering at the scene through half an eye could see that. But the man sprang backwards, then lay prone upon the floor, clutching at the side of his face as if in agony.

Druluk glanced over at Ylfronir. The elf's eyes were fearful, and he mouthed something. Druluk couldn't make it out exactly, but from the elf's expression it was probably something along the lines of

'What devilry is this?'

Druluk simply shook his head. This was not magic, this was force of personality. As he had known instinctively ever since he had read that evil parchment. Why breed an army if you can control the very elements themselves? Why sit here now letting the defences crumble if you could make the ground open up and swallow your attackers? Saruman may be a master conjuror, adept at sleight of hand and suggestion but his powers ran no further. He was a mortal. He would bleed.

Druluk tightened his grip on the knife handle. Why not move now, get it over with? He imagined the next few seconds as if watching them through Ylfronir's eyes. He saw himself lunging forward into the room, stumbling slightly on stiff legs, knife held high as he made for the white clad wizard. He saw the other man scrambling to his feet, making as if to block his path…Druluk would shove the misguided fool to one side, reach Saruman…and the knife would come slashing down…Blood would spatter the white cloak…His hands would once again be sticky with it…He would sink to his knees just like in that fateful woodland, and his fingers would slowly uncurl from the knife handle…

…it clattered to the floor. The stone floor of the passage where he still stood. Saruman spun on his heel and stared at the doorway

'Who's there?'

His mind reeling with fear, Druluk drew further back into the shadows and looked over to Ylfronir…who had drawn his bow without a sound. The elf met his gaze and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

'Who's there?' Saruman started moving towards them.

Druluk looked at the elf for one more anguished second…then nodded. Ylfronir leapt across the doorway, letting an arrow fly into the room, then grabbed Druluk's arm and dragged him off down the corridor. Behind them Druluk heard a hoarse cry of pain, then

'Master! I…'

'After them, idiot…' Saruman's voice was strained as though he were talking through clenched teeth, 'I'll live…'

But Druluk heard no more. Ylfronir grabbed him round the waist, swung him over his shoulder before he had time to protest, and sprinted down the stone stairs of the tower of Orthanc faster than the orc would have thought possible.


	5. A question of leadership

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

Tending the fire with one hand, Ylfonir massaged the back of his neck with the other. He felt raw. Raw inside his head. Now that he had time to think, it was becoming clear that the comfortable, reassuring certainties of his life up until this point had been all but stripped away. He still had his ideals, but these were a skeletal framework about which the remains of what he had thought he knew hung in tatters.

Still, he was still alive, which given the events of the day was bordering on miraculous. He still didn't know how he had found the strength for that mad rush from the tower. Saruman's servant had been old but even so, outrunning him with Druluk in tow was some feat. Once they were clear of the tower they had headed to the west, steering well clear of any ents which came into sight. But a single elf and an orc fleeing the battle were hardly prime targets. Now they had reached the foothills of the mountains, and felt it safe enough to stop for the night.

He glanced over at Druluk. The orc had been lost in thoughtful silence all evening. All of Ylfronir's attempts to strike up a conversation had failed, but eventually Druluk spoke:

'Ylfronir? You know…this morning…in the armoury? With the sword?'

'Yes.'

'I forgive you.'

Ylfronir looked at Druluk in astonishment

'I believe it was you who swung the sword at me!'

Druluk looked at him levelly.

'You ducked.'

Ylfronir opened his mouth, but could not think of an adequate reply. This was beyond credit, was this Druluk's idea of a joke? Suddenly he found himself feeling infuriated

'I saved your life today!'

'I forgive you for that as well…'

Ylfronir took a deep breath and managed to restrain himself from lashing out. Instead he said calmly

'You would never have killed Saruman. And you didn't want me to, not really…'

'Is that why you missed?'

'I didn't miss.'

'So you never meant to kill him…'

'Like I said, _you_ didn't want to. I could see it in your face…'

'Oh I wanted to...'

'But you couldn't bring yourself to. You dropped the knife for Iluvatar's sake! And if we're in the mood for some apologising…'

'…I'm sorry! I'm…sorry…'

Druluk's voice trailed off and he slouched forward where he sat to let his head hang wearily between his knees.

Ylfronir sighed.

'I'm sorry too,' he found himself echoing.

They sat for a moment in silence. Then Ylfronir remembered something:

'Have you got any more of that entwash?'

They drank in silence, watching the last vestiges of the sunset disappear. The fire hissed and popped. Ylfronir wondered whether having such a blaze was wise, given the attention it might attract…but then again it should keep other kinds of attention at bay. Staring into the flames he let his awareness of the rest of the world ebb away, and tried to think of nothing at all…

…Druluk was shaking him by the shoulder

'Wake up!' he hissed,

'What is it?' mumbled Ylfronir, embarrassed to have been caught unawares

'I don't know, but I'm sure I saw something moving up there…'

Druluk pointed up the hill at whose foot they had set up camp. Ylfronir squinted in the direction he indicated, but after staring at the fire his eyes were useless in the darkness.

'I can't...' he began, as Druluk suddenly stiffened and grabbed his arm,

'There it is again!'

'Shall I put out the fire?'

'That won't do any good now, they've seen us for sure. You had better draw your bow…'

'Shouldn't we run?'

'I don't know this country, and I'm exhausted….I certainly wouldn't get far…'

Ylfronir knew that Druluk was right, and did not feel up to carrying him again. He nodded his agreement. Then he realised that Druluk was weaponless, having left his knife on the floor of Saruman's passageway. He drew his own knife, and offered it to the orc. For a moment Druluk stared, as if he had forgotten what it was….then he gingerly accepted it, nodding his reluctant thanks.

Ylfronir set an arrow to his bow and moved to the other side of the fire so that it was between him and the hill. Druluk joined him, still holding the knife awkwardly.

A voice called out of the darkness:

'Druluk?'

Ylfronir involuntarily turned to stare at his companion in surprise, keeping his bow trained in the direction of the hill, not that he could see anything in particular to aim at. Druluk seemed just as astonished as he, and opened his mouth but no sound came out.

'Druluk?' came the voice again…

'It must be the others!' said Ylfronir in delight, 'Jorrig must have got them out alive!'

Druluk was still staring blankly, so Ylfronir nudged him

'Say something!'

'Who's there?' shouted Druluk, at last, looking up at the hillside even more intently. The reply was instantaneous

'Your revolution!'

Ylfronir felt his face splitting into a wide, relieved smile as he heard the words. He relaxed his bow and turned to his companion to celebrate, but his face was still grave. The orc wordlessly picked up his pack and began to stamp out the fire. Ylfronir shrugged and turned back to the hillside. At last he saw the elusive figures appearing out of the blackness – two of them, an orc and an Uruk Hai, neither of whom he recognised. As he moved forward to greet them the thought briefly occurred to him how strange this was, that the sight of those who but a week ago were his enemies now filled him with such gladness…

The newcomers, Nlug and Skelthor led them back up the hill.

'We've set up camp a few miles from here,' explained Nlug, 'We didn't know if we had come the right way, we weren't even sure of where the Gap of Rohan was…'

Ylfronir remembered that he was supposed to have been providing that particular information, and bit his lip in embarrassment,

'We're just so glad to have found you!' finished the orc. His Uruk hai companion, Skelthor, nodded his agreement but said nothing. Druluk too seemed disinclined to comment, so it fell to Ylfronir to make conversation,

'Well, we are very grateful to you for finding us…' he began, 'Though at first we had no idea who you were, so sorry about the bow and all that…'

'That's OK,' said Nlug, 'But I thought we weren't allowed weapons…' He looked questioningly at Druluk.

'I think that's something which Druluk might be going to, ah, re assess…' said Ylfronir conspiratorially…

'No,' Druluk's voice came cutting across, 'I stand by what I said before.'

'Not even for self defence?' asked Ylfronir in exasperation, 'you were happy enough for us to be armed just now!'

'I was wrong just now. I wasn't thinking straight,'

'You're not thinking at all! This is a war, for Middle Earth's sake!'

'_No it's not!_'

The sheer force with which Druluk spat out these words silenced the elf, but did nothing to ease his mind.

Eventually the flickering light of more camp fires appeared out of the gloom, as the foursome drew near the orc camp. Their approach was greeted by a flurry of activity and raised voices, and as they came within a distance of about 20 yards, cheers rang out, echoing off the hills.

'Are they _trying_ to get themselves killed?' muttered Druluk.

'At least act like you're pleased to see them,' replied Ylfronir, harshly. He regretted his words when he saw the expression on the orc's face. He opened his mouth to apologise, when a deep voice rumbled

'Druluk!'

Jorrig was striding towards them. Something he held in his hand swung from side to side as he walked, and Ylfronir could not help but be reminded of the occasion when they first met, all of four days previously.

'We thought you had surely perished! We saw the dam breached and water flooding into the caves! We sent out searches, but hardly dared to hope…'

The Uruk hai's voice trailed off, this having been one of the longest speeches Ylfronir had ever heard him make. Druluk stepped forward and clasped Jorrig's hand,

'You did well.'

Ylfronir hang back, suddenly acutely aware of how much of an outsider he was here. But Druluk too now seemed lost for further words. It fell to Jorrig to break the awkward silence

'Come and eat!'

After tucking into the rather dubious looking stew which Jorrig had produced (Ylfronir stuck to his lembas bread), Druluk seemed more energetic. He started talking to the other orcs and Uruks gathered round the campfire where Jorrig and Ylfronir also sat. Nlug and Skelthor were among them.

'A lot of decisions need to be made,' he began, and the response was instantaneous

'Where are we going?'

'What are we going to do?'

'What about Saruman?'

'What about the Ents?'

Druluk waited for the clamour to die down again.

'The most important decision to make is…' He drew a deep breath,

'Who is going to make the rest of the decisions?'

There was a brief silence. Ylfronir looked at Druluk in admiring surprise. The rest of the company were still coming to terms with the significance of this.

'Who…?' Nlug said slowly, 'is going to…'

'…_lead us_,' finished Druluk

'You, of course!' exclaimed Jorrig,

'No. Not I. Not necessarily…'

Druluk's audience waited expectantly

'We should, ah, elect our leader, um…'

Ylfronir could hold back his excitement no longer,

'…_democratically_!' he cried, finishing Druluk's sentence for him.

'That's right,' agreed Druluk, 'Ylfronir, would you be so kind…?'

Ylfronir sprang to his feet, the exhaustion of the day disappearing with the adrenaline rush that came with the idea of an election.

'O._K_, we're going to need a returning officer. Um, nominations please?' He looked round expectantly, and was met with mere bafflement.

'You can nominate anyone! Anyone at all! Orc, Uruk, _elf_,' he hinted.

At last Druluk said

'I nominate you, Ylfronir,'

'Why thank you! Are there any objections?'

Nlug raised a hand. Ylfronir nodded, and he said

'I haven't a clue what's going on…' but before Ylfronir could reply Druluk whispered frantically in the orc's ear, and he quickly said 'objection withdrawn.'

A quick glance around the assembled throng revealed no further raised hands, so Ylfronir continued,

'So I am duly appointed returning officer.'

A sudden thought struck him, and he bent down to ask Druluk quietly,

'Um, do you think we should have someone taking minutes?'

Druluk did not reply, but was starting to look more than a little annoyed, so Ylfronir thought it best to gloss over that issue. It wasn't as if anyone had any paper anyway.

'Right, all nominations for the post of leader of…um….'

'the orc republic,' prompted Druluk,

'The Orc Republic, yes, all nominations must reach me by midnight tomorrow.'

Ylfronir sat down, feeling pleased with his efforts.

'Midnight tomorrow?' hissed Druluk, rage starting to become apparent, 'are we supposed to sit and wait for a leader until _midnight__ tomorrow_?'

'Well, actually no, it'll be more like the day after, because we'll have to have the hustings and then the election itself…'

'Are you out of your _mind_?'

'Come on Druluk, it's only fair to give a decent length of time for the prospective candidates to prepare their manifestoes…'

'_Manifestoes_?!? Ylfronir, if we stick around here until midnight tomorrow the chances are we'll be slaughtered before we even hear what's in your precious manifestoes…'

Ylfronir paused for a second. Druluk did have a point. And it would be a terrible shame for Middle Earth's first democracy to be cut down in its prime. He stood up again.

'A slight change of plan,' he announced, over the conversations which had sprung up. Heads turned to listen.

'Nominations are to be made…' he caught a glimpse of Druluk's expression and suppressed the last of his desire for proper procedure, '…now.'

Everyone was looking at each other, unsure what to do. Once more, it was Druluk who eventually raised a hand...

'Yes, Druluk?'

'I nominate…Jorrig.'

The reaction to this had barely started before Jorrig jumped up and shouted

'I nominate Druluk!'

'Are there any further nominations?' asked Ylfronir quickly, as the exclamations and discussions among the crowd threatened to rise to a roar. There was no response.

'No more nominations? Then we have two candidates. Druluk and Jorrig. Would you both join me?'

Jorrig was already standing, and began to make his way over to Ylfronir's side. Druluk reluctantly rose to his feet also.

'_I could give you five minutes to think about your manifesto_…' whispered Ylfronir,

'…_no manifestoes_,' hissed Druluk

'_but__ what are you going to say in your speech_…?'

'…_no speeches,_ _just get this _over_ with…_'

A glance at the exhausted pair of nominees and a quick scan over the bedraggled throng clustered round the campfires persuaded Ylfronir that now was not the time for hustings. Instead,

'OK people,' he said, 'let's _vote_!'

It was as secret a ballot as Ylfronir could devise. He took the leaves which wrapped his lembas bread and tore them into small pieces, then, realising that this would not be sufficient, he sent a party of orcs to strip some nearby bushes of their leaves. Every member of the company was issued with a small green fragment. They were to make two small holes in the leaf if they wished to vote for Jorrig and one small hole if they wished to vote for Druluk. A fragment with no holes at all would be considered spoilt. (Strictly speaking Ylfronir would have preferred to include an option to 're open nominations', but a trial run he had performed showed that the fragments tended to disintegrate if more holes were made).

As he stood, holding open his pack which he had hastily emptied of its contents so it could serve as a makeshift ballot box, Ylfronir felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Every crumpled leaf dropped inside it by a bemused looking orc represented to him a step towards the empowerment of all the dispossessed of Middle Earth. This muddy hillside, the flames, the darkness and above all the voters were not how he had pictured this moment, but nevertheless this was his dream become reality.

'Are you sure this is going to work?'

Druluk dropped his own leaf into the bag.

'Absoultely.'

Ylfronir spoke with utter conviction. He knew that he had never been more certain of anything. The concept was too elegant, too beautiful, too…_perfect_…for it to fail. Druluk looked up at him with the eyes of one who finds themselves hanging from a thin and as yet untested thread.

'_Trust me,_' mouthed Ylfronir. Druluk turned away.

Ylfronir himself abstained from voting. He was not entirely sure whether he was exactly a citizen of the Orc Republic or not. He was also fairly sure that the others were unlikely to want to discuss this issue right at the present time. So when everyone else had cast their votes he took the bag over to the edge of one of the smaller campfires, and started to lay out its contents on the ground. The other orcs and Uruk hai nearby instinctively drew back to give him privacy.

All 623 orcs and Uruks who had made the escape from Isengard had cast their votes. It was hard to make out _how_ they had actually voted, squinting at the tiny green scraps in the flickering firelight, but Ylfronir counted and re counted again until he was certain. Then he rose and returned to the main fire. All fell silent.

'I, the official returning officer,' he began, 'as appointed by the Orc Republic, um….about 2 hours ago…'

623 pairs of eyes bored into him. Ylfronir's voice trembled

'I am able now to announce… the result…. of the election for leader…'

Ylfronir took a deep breath

'Druluk received two hundred and seventy four votes. Jorrig received three hundred and seventeen votes. There were thirty two…'

But the end of his sentence was swallowed up by the roar as all present realised what this meant. Jorrig was forced to his feet by those around him, and propelled towards the front of the crowd. Ylfronir decided that it was probably now time to take a back seat. As he made his way to sit down he spotted Druluk. And for the first time that day the orc was smiling.


	6. The Mines of Moria

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

Druluk tramped along the narrow mountain track. It was probably made by a deer, but since he was navigating he thought it best to march along as though he knew perfectly well where he was going. He had perhaps over estimated his knowledge of the location of this particular entrance to the Mines of Moria, but he was fairly sure that they had climbed the right mountain at least. And he was extremely glad to be away from the rest of the new Orc Republic, if only for a short time. The overwhelming sense of responsibility which he had felt upon hearing those words: 'Your revolution,' had been lessened only slightly by Jorrig being elected leader. It was still his revolution, and he hated the responsibility. And he hated himself for that.

But now there was a task he could focus on. And once again he was back following orders. After the election, after Jorrig had come to terms with what had happened, he had called a meeting. They had all agreed that the most pressing need was to find somewhere safe to form a temporary settlement. And Druluk had searched his memory of the various maps he had seen within Saruman's library. The phrase _Mines of Moria_ had drifted up from the recesses of his mind. Orcs had certainly lived there once. It could be the perfect home for the Orc Republic. So he had enthusiastically put the idea forward, and Jorrig had, naturally enough, sent him and Ylfronir to reconnoitre. The rest of the party had camped at the foot of the mountain.

'Are you sure we came the right way?'

'_Yes_!'

'It's just that I don't see any sign of an entrance,'

'It's a _secret_ doorway, Ylfronir, that's the point. If there was a big sign saying _mines of Moria this way _it wouldn't be very secret…'

'…sshh!'

'What? You were the one who…'

'_ssshh_!'

Druluk grudgingly stopped talking, and let Ylfronir do his listening thing. If it hadn't come in useful in the past, these highly strung elvish senses could have got a bit annoying…

…Ylfronir shook his head,

'No, it's nothing...'

…as a rope lasso whirred through the air and tightened around Druluk's chest, pinning his arms to his sides

'_Nothing_?!'

Druluk struggled but the rope just seemed to tighten further. But Ylfronir wasn't coming to his assistance, instead he was staring at the rope

'I could use some help here…'

But Ylfronir wasn't listening,

'Nathradril?' he called into the trees

'Who the hell…' began Druluk

'Ylfronir!' cried a female voice, and Druluk heard a rustling from the tree behind him. He craned his neck round, and saw an elfwoman climbing down, holding the other end of the rope which had lassooed him in her teeth. When she reached the ground, she cast it aside and darted over to Ylfronir.

'I thought it was you, but I hadn't seen you in so long that I couldn't be sure!'

'What are you doing here, Nath? Mirkwood's miles away!'

'Long story…So much has happened since you left, Ylfronir. Legolas…'

'Oh I've seen Legolas, in Fangorn…'

'Fangorn?'

Druluk felt that this had gone far enough,

'Excuse me,' he said pointedly, 'do I get an introduction?'

The elves turned,

'Sorry Druluk!', exclaimed Ylfronir, 'this is Nathradril, from Mirkwood. She's one of the founders of MEND in fact, if you remember me saying…'

'You _know_ him?' asked Nathradril, with a hint of horror that, Druluk had to give her credit for, she seemed to be trying to hide,

'Yes…another long story. This is Druluk.'

'I'd shake your hand,' said Druluk, 'only…'

'Oh, sorry!' Nathradril seemed only then to remember the rope. She picked up the trailing end, and with a flick of the wrist the lassoo fell free. Druluk couldn't help but be a little impressed.

'I thought…well…you know, goblins don't usually get on with elves, and I thought…'

'It's _orc_,' said Ylfronir

'Oh…right…Well, sorry, Druluk…'

Druluk nodded graciously, then picked up the rope to examine it himself. 'I've never seen a rope like this before…what's it made of?'

'Hair.'

'Nice…' said Druluk, letting the rope drop quickly, 'good idea that…'

'_Anyway_,' Ylfronir drew Nathradril's attention back, 'You still haven't told me what you're doing here…'

'It looks to me like you've got a tale to tell yourself…'

Druluk could see how the next few hours were going to pan out. He sat down wearily against a tree trunk and dug out the stone bottle which had held entwash but now just carried water from his pack. Taking a sip, he settled back to listen to Nathradril's story.

'You remember, Ylfronir, how we had a plan to seize one of the rings of power...'

Druluk pricked up his ears at this, and looked at Ylfronir with a questioning smirk. The elf had the decency to look a little embarrassed, and said quickly

'To bestow upon an _elected_ leader of course…'

'Well, yes, but we thought we ought to get hold of one _first_…' continued Nathradril,

'Naturally,' agreed Druluk. The sarcasm seemed lost on Nathradril, but Ylfronir sent him a withering look. The elfwoman continued:

'Well, you will know that the three Elven rings are held by Elrond, Galadriel and Mithrandir. I volunteered to go to Lothlorien, integrate myself into the household of the Lady Galadriel and attempt to gain access to the ring…'

'A daring plan!' exclaimed Ylfronir,

'Not the word I'd use…' muttered Druluk to himself,

'I left over 3 months ago. At the same time, Legolas and several others set out for Rivendell, on a matter of some grave importance, though I know not what…'

'And you didn't feel inclined to go with him to Rivendell?'

Druluk thought he could detect a note of resentment in Ylfronir's voice,

'_No_, we had a plan, and I stuck to it…'

'As you always do…'

Now there was definitely sarcasm, Druluk was intrigued, as Nathradril said

'When are you going to let that go?'

'When _you_ stop compromising our cause with your infatuation with a certain member of the aristocracy!'

'Oh, you're one to talk about compromising the cause! Leaving over some ridiculous business with escaping prisoners…'

'I left so as not to tarnish the rest of you…'

'You left because you can't bear to make a mistake…'

'At least I _recognise_ my own mistakes…'

Druluk, much as he had been enjoying this little exchange, felt an intervention might be called for,

'So did you get the ring?' he asked,

The elves turned, stared at him blankly for a second, then Nathradril replied:

'No.'

Ylfronir did not say anything, but rolled his eyes knowingly. Nathradril narrowed hers,

'I _could_ have stolen the ring of the Lady Galdriel, and plunged the whole of Lothlorien into disarray, at the same time as gaining a name for myself and the whole of our movement as dissident thieving traitors…But fortune threw another option into my path…'

Druluk could see that Ylfronir was paying attention now.

'A few weeks ago, some travellers arrived in the Golden Wood. Eight of them in fact, and Legolas was among their number…'

Ylfronir sighed noisily, but Nathradril seemed to ignore this

'Legolas, Aragorn, a man named Boromir, a dwarf named Gimli and four hobbits. They were on a journey, a quest of great danger. A quest which had already claimed the life of one of their travelling companions…A quest which had claimed the life of…_Mithrandir_.'

Druluk didn't know who Mithrandir was, other than that his name had been listed by Nathradril as one of the ring bearers, but he could see that Ylfronir was deeply perplexed at this,

'_When_ did you say this happened?'

'About two weeks ago. I realised at once what I must do...'

'But…'

'I must find his body, and reclaim the ring for all elves!'

'But…'

'I spoke to Legolas. He told me that Mithrandir fell into shadow in Moria, locked in combat with a Balrog…I've been looking for an entrance to the mines…the Bridge of Khazad Dum should be easy enough to find, then all I've got to do is climb into the abyss and…'

'But he's alive!' blurted out Ylfronir at last, 'I saw him in Fangorn!'

'What?'

'I saw Mithrandir, and Legolas, and Aragorn, and a dwarf in Fangorn a mere 6 days ago!'

'You must have been mistaken…'

'I know what I saw! Druluk, you remember, when we climbed that tree…'

'Oh yes!' agreed Druluk, 'when you though the Nazgul were after us!'

Nathradil smiled,

'Paranoid as ever, Ylfronir?'

Ylfronir ignored this,

'Druluk, the old man? Do you remember, the old man, in the white cloak?'

Even now those words triggered in Druluk's mind the thought of Saruman, but he managed to remain focussed on the present moment…

'I…I was trying not to fall out of the tree…' he admitted. 'But I caught a glimpse of an old man…'

'You see?' said Ylfronir triumphantly,

'But it's impossible! Legolas…'

'Legolas must have got it wrong.'

'Or _you_ got it wrong…'

Druluk could feel the evening chill starting to put an edge on the air. They really ought to get a move on if they wanted to find the mines before dark…

'Look, does it really matter?' he interjected,

'_Matter_?' cried the elves in unified horror,

'I mean, even if he is dead, and you could find his body without getting yourself killed…_and that's a big if'_, he added privately, 'what good is a ring going to do you?'

'It's a ring of _power_,' said Nathradril, as if explaining to a small child,

'No, it's a ring,' said Druluk flatly. 'What would you do with it, if you found it?'

'Take it back to Mirkwood, and hold an election to see who gets to hold it…'

'And…?'

'And whoever got to hold it would be our leader…'

'So you would vote for whoever you thought would be a good leader.'

'Yes,'

'And then having the ring would make them an even better leader?'

'No, having the ring would give them _power_…'

'So you would only do what this leader said if they had a ring?'

'Um…'

'And you would do _whatever_ they said, as long as they _had_ the ring?'

'Well…' Nathradril turned to Ylfronir, and asked 'Is he always like this?'

'No,' said Ylfronir, slowly,

Druluk sighed, and stood up. He was about to stomp off into the trees, when he heard Ylfronir continue:

'No…Sometimes he's wrong.'

This seemed to silence even Nathradril.

Ylfronir went on

'We are looking for an entrance to the mines too, as it happens. You can come along if you like. If you want to look for Mithrandir's body that's fine, but it will be a wasted search.'

Nathradril silently picked up her rope and began to coil it. Druluk glared at Ylfronir, conveying via his knitted brow that:

_'Some consultation would have been nice!'_ The elf looked embarrassed, he gave an apologetic shrug, as if to say:

_'I hardly had a choice…'_

Nathradril finished coiling the rope and slipped it into a large pocket in her robe.

'Are we off then? Which way?'

'Druluk's the expert,' said Ylfronir.

Druluk carefully arranged his expression so as to appear self assured with a hint of superiority…

'Are you OK?' asked Ylfronir,

…and stalked off in the first direction which occurred to him.

……………..

It was getting dark. It seemed that Ylfronir's doubts about Druluk's sense of direction had been vindicated.

'This is the tree I hid in when I first saw you!' exclaimed Nathradril, 'you've led us in a huge circle!'

'It just looks like that tree…' insisted Druluk

'Excuse me, I come from Mirkwood, I _know_ trees…'

'And _I_ know...'

'Where we are?'

'Well…'

'Where we're going?'

'Um…'

Ylfronir grinned to himself, if his two companions wanted to continue directing their frustrations at each other that was fine by him…

'Ylfronir?'

…but, alas, it could not last. He pretended not to have heard,

'_Ylfronir_'

He craned his neck to look back, but carried on walking slowly forwards,

'What?'

and suddenly no ground met his foot. He flung his arms out to either side, and teetered for a moment on the edge of the pit beneath him, before falling forward, to crash on his knees at its stone lined base.

'Ylfronir!' He heard Druluk run to the pit, and scramble down beside him, as the pain registered itself

'I'm OK,' he said, teeth gritted,

'Are you sure…?'

Ylfronir slowly shifted himself to a seated position, wincing as he moved his legs.

'Nothing broken...'

He bit one side of his lower lip and concentrated on that instead. Druluk had the sense to leave him alone. The orc stood up and called to Nathradril

'I think Ylfronir's found what we're looking for…'

It was indeed an entrance to a tunnel- at first a tunnel through the earth, walls and floor lined with fist sized pieces of flint, then later a tunnel hewed into the stone heart of the mountain itself. They made their way slowly along, Druluk leading the way since he felt the most at home in the near pitch darkness. Ylfronir could barely see anything, and brought up the rear, feeling his way along the walls. When they first entered, the tunnel had been so small that the two elves had had to walk with stooped backs, but it had become tall enough that Ylfronir could stand upright, a welcome change. The floor beneath their feet had been sloping gently downhill all the way. They had been walking for what seemed like hours, and Ylfronir didn't like to think of how deep they were beneath the ground.

'Nathradril?' he called,

'What?'

'Are you alright?'

'Excuse me?'

'It's just, you know, I thought you might be feeling claustrophobic…'

She didn't deign to reply. Ylfronir sighed, and tried to think about the rolling plains of Rohan or the leafy paradise that was Mirkwood. It was funny but the tunnels of Saruman's underground installation hadn't felt this oppressive. It was the pitch darkness, he decided, it had to be. At least at Isengard there had been torches on the walls…

…suddenly his eyes were filled with bright yellow light. They closed on reflex but coloured shapes still danced on the inside of his eyelids and he staggered, falling onto one knee, which opened up his wound and sent a shockwave of pain through his body. Forcing his eyes open he saw the passageway ahead, now filled with orcs, several holding flaring torches. He saw Nathradril draw her bow in one smooth motion, but Druluk pushed her backwards and the arrow flew uselessly to glance off the ceiling.

There was a moment of complete stillness as everyone stared at Druluk, who took a deep breath.

'We're not here to…' he began, but never got to finish his sentence. The assembled orcs rushed forwards as one. Ylfronir fumbled for his bow as he saw Nathradril overpowered, Druluk struck to the ground and the orc leading the charge rapidly approaching. But something was not quite right. This orc was different from any that Ylfronir had ever seen. And as he struggled against the hands which grabbed him and wrestled him and crushed him into the rough stone of the passage wall, his brain finally caught up. These were …orc…women…


	7. The Moria Collective

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

Druluk slowly regained consciousness. As he tried to sit up, he heard Ylfronir's voice

'Druluk! Are you alright?'

''m fine…' he mumbled, blinking as his surroundings came into focus. He was lying on a rough stone floor. As he managed to raise himself into a seated position he found that he was in a small, semicircularly shaped cell with a heavy looking metal gate barring his way out. In the light cast by a torch clamped to the wall on the other side of the passageway outside his cell he could see that Ylfronir was similarly imprisoned, in a cell diagonally across the passageway from his.

'Where's Nathradril?' he asked Ylfronir, as he tried to ignore the pounding in his brain

'Cell next to yours,' replied the elf shortly, 'but it looks like she's still unconscious.'

Druluk leaned against the wall, feeling its irregularities dig uncomfortably into his back. He needed to think. What they had seen back there…

…but he had barely conjured up the scene again in his mind when he heard the sound of footsteps in the passageway. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand upright, grabbing the bars of his cell to support himself. He pressed his face to those same bars to try and glimpse who was approaching.

It was another of the…orc females…he supposed he had to call them. Part of him hoped that he was still unconscious and that this was just some horrible hallucination, but he knew he was in too much pain for that to be true.

'I am Thrrl,' announced the newcomer, 'I speak for the Collective. Tell us your names.'

'Druluk,' mumbled Druluk, 'Um, what's the Collec…'

The orc had swept past him, and now stood in front of Ylfronir

'Your name, elf?'

'Ylfronir…and she's Nathradril…'

Thrrl spun on her heel and returned to face Druluk,

'Where are you from, Druluk?'

'Isengard…well…not strictly any more…'

'Explain.'

Druluk tried to collect his thoughts

'Explain.'

Patience clearly wasn't a concept Thrrl was familiar with.

'I…well…we…well…I sort of ran away from Isengard…'

'You deserted?'

'We _rebelled._ We threw off the yoke of Saruman's slavery, we…'

'How many others went with you?'

'Ummm…'

'Six hundred and twenty two,' said Ylfronir helpfully

'Silence, elf!'

Thrrl glared expectantly at Druluk,

'How many?'

'Umm, well, like Ylfronir just sai…'

'How many?'

'Six hundred and twenty two' he repeated reluctantly.

'Where are the others?'

Druluk thought quickly. Thanks to Ylfronir's pin point accuracy there was no point in trying to threaten Thrrl with the thought of a vast army waiting nearby to come and avenge his death, so he replied

'Far from here.'

'So what are you doing here?'

'Just exploring. We aren't trying to tread on anyone's toes, if you let us go then I'll go back and tell the others that the Mines of Moria are strictly off limits…'

'The Collective will decide when and if you are to be freed.'

'OK, um, I was just wondering what this collecti…'

'Why were you in the company of these elves?'

'They are my…' Druluk had been planning to say prisoners, but somehow the word stuck in his throat, '…friends.'

'Elves are not welcome here. Only a few weeks ago many of my sisters fell to elf-arrows,'

'These two mean you no harm.'

'And why should we trust your word?'

'No reason,' sighed Druluk slowly, 'there's no reason at all why you should.'

Thrrl turned abruptly and started walking back down the passageway.

'Thrrl, please!' Druluk cried desperately, 'Tell me what's happening here!'

She spoke without looking round,

'The Collective…'

'What the hell is the Collective?' he shouted, 'Look, I'm not trying to negotiate with you, I'll do whatever you say, but please…'

Thrrl stopped. She stood for a moment perfectly still. Druluk's heart beat loudly in his ears and he chewed the inside of his cheek, wishing he could take back his outburst.

'The Collective,' she began at last, spinning round yet again and walking back towards Druluk's cell, 'is…all this,' she waved her arms vaguely. 'I and all the other workers here…and the Queen of course…'  
'The queen?'

'Might I just…?' interjected Ylfronir,

'No!' said both Drulk and Thrrl in unison, then Thrrl answered Druluk:

'The Queen is our mother.'

'Your mother?'

'All of our mother.'

'Excuse me?'

'All. Of. Our. Mother.'

'I _heard_ you, but I don't understand…'

'What's to understand?'

'I, um…How many of you are there then?'

'About fifty thousand workers…'

'Fifty _thousand_? And you are all…'

'Sisters.'

'But how…?'

'The Queen is the only one who lays the eggs.'

'Eggs?' Druluk was starting to feel light headed, 'eggs?'

'Well what did you think happened?'

'I…didn't…I…'

Thrrl raised her eyebrows…

'But why are you all…y'know…_female_….'

'When the young develop in caves near the surface it's colder, and they become males. When the young develop in the warmer caves deep in the heart of the mountain they become females.'

'That wasn't what I asked…' Druluk fought to keep focussed as Thrrl's face grew grave.

'We used to fill the surface brood caves with eggs and block the entrance, then return after a month to release the new male young. But many years ago we were forced to abandon this practice. Five times in a row our brood cave was robbed.'

'Robbed…' repeated Druluk, not really aware of what he was saying, as dark corners started to creep into the edges of his vision,

'Yes. And now that you have arrived, talking of _Isengard_ and _Saruman_, we can have a good idea of what happened…'

Druluk sat down heavily and rested his forehead against his knees. Thrrl reached a hand through the bars of the cell to prod him

'Are you OK?'

Druluk blinked, and raised his head slowly

'What do you think?'

Thrrl looked confused

'Yes, I'm OK,' said Druluk irritably, 'just carry on.'

'There's not much more to tell. We abandoned our surface brood caves, apart from the drone cave which we guarded day and night, and we started to use Cave Trolls as soldiers instead.'

'Drone cave?'

Thrrl gave an exasperated sigh

'The drones are…well…uh….you know…'

'I'm sorry, but…'

'Someone needs to impregnate the queen in the first place!' snapped Thrrl, 'OK?'

'OK…'

'But most of the time the drones are pretty useless. They have their own little settlement in some of the upper caves, right over on the other side of the Misty Mountains. Whichever of the last generation of drones…ah…got lucky….sets himself up as a 'king'. It's pretty laughable really…'

'Ha ha,' said Druluk, hollowly.

'So for the most part we can get along just fine without males at all. We can defend ourselves, and the cave trolls help, so there's really no need for soldiers…'

'Soldiers?'

'Yes, that's the only other reason to breed males…'

'The only other reason to breed males…'

repeated Druluk, slowly,

'Well, us workers are all female. It used to be the case that we would get on with finding food, looking after the Queen and tending the brood caves, whilst the males would guard the perimeter and see off attackers…'

But Druluk was no longer listening. He closed his eyes and willed this all to be a nightmare. Thrrl's voice died away and eventually he heard her walking off along the corridor.

'Druluk?' Ylfronir said softly, 'Druluk, I…' but even the elf was lost for words.

Druluk's mind swam with all that Thrrl had revealed. He felt horror, frustration and curiosity mixed in almost equal quantities. And he could hardly believe how blindly he had made his way through life this far, not even questioning how his own had came into being. So this was how Saruman had built up his army – by robbing young orcs…no, kidnapping them…taking them away from their rightful home. But at the same time he felt horror at the nature of that very home…this…this hive in which he now found himself prisoner. And to have escaped the involuntary military service of Saruman's regime only to discover that his birthright was just that – to be a soldier – crushed the last of the vague dreams he had been idly clinging to.

There was no salvation for him here or anywhere….The taste of metal suddenly flooded his mouth. He had bitten through the flesh of his cheek. But he couldn't feel any pain.

……………………………

Someone was speaking to him. Ylfronir shook himself out of his reverie and looked round in confusion, but he was still in the orc cell. The voice came again. He felt that he really ought to know what it was saying and yet…

'_Ylfronir__, for the last time_…' he suddenly realised it was Nathradril. And she was talking in elvish. It had been so long since he had heard his own language spoken that he had not recognised it at first.

'_Sorry, what did you say?_' he replied in the same tongue, moving to the front of his cell to look across at her.

'_Where are we_?'

'_We are being held captive by a group of orcs who call themselves the Collective…_'

'_Ylfronir__, did you see that those orcs back there were_…'

'_Yes._'

'_Do you have any idea what's happening?_'

Ylfronir took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, staring at a dark stain on the wall of his cell.

'_Ylfronir_?'

He swallowed hard, and proceeded to outline, in as matter of fact a way as he could, what Thrrl had just told Druluk. When he had finished there was a moment's pause and then

'_Intriguing…_'

'_Intriguing!?__ Is that all you have to say?'_

_'What else should I say?'_

_'It's…well…it's…unnatural!'_

_'It's the way they do things…'_

_'How can you be so…'_

_'What?'_

_'So infuriatingly calm!__ So…'_

_'…hush, Ylfronir…I think someone's coming…'_

Ylfronir pressed his face against the bars and squinted down the passageway.

'_I don't think_…' he began, but just at that moment a figure rounded the corner at the far end. It was another of the orcwomen, wearing the same design of leather tunic as Thrrl had worn, but which on her was straining to get round her huge belly. She carried a round container in each hand, and as she drew closer Ylfronir saw liquid slop out of one. Her dragging steps eventually brought her to the three occupied cells.

'Water,' she announced, breathing heavily. She held out one of the containers in Ylfronir's vague direction. He threaded his arm through the bars to take it, and saw that it was held in a leather flask. Nathradril was handed one similar. But when she came to Druluk's cell she reached for the key which dangled from a chain around her neck. Ylfronir saw him jump and scramble to his feet in confusion, saying

'Huh?'

'You are to come with me.'

'But what about…?'

'You are to come with me.'

'OK, OK…'

'Attempting escape will be pointless…'

'Uh, right…understood…um…where will…?

'No questions.'

'OK…'

From where Ylfronir stood, escaping from the custody of this particular representative of the Orc Collective seemed like a fairly realistic possibility…but then there were probably more guards in the surrounding passageways. He watched as she slowly unlocked Druluk's cell and grabbed his arm. Druluk met Ylfronir's gaze with incomprehension and fear in his eyes. Ylfronir tried to look encouraging, but deep down he felt the situation to be entirely hopeless. He slumped back down in his own cell, raising the flask to his lips. But just before he took a sip he saw the orcwoman stumble slightly as she marched Druluk back along the corridor…He lowered the flask thoughtfully.

'Nath?'

she gulped down a mouthful of water and pulled a face

'Tastes foul… What did you say, sorry?'

'Nath, have you still got your rope…?'

'I doubt it, they took my bow, my knife…but…hey…' she dug into the deep pocket of her robe, 'what do you know! They missed it!'

She drew out the slim coil. It glimmered slightly, even in the dank cell, and as he saw it, Ylfronir felt renewed hope.

'Right,' he said, crouching at the edge of his prison and eyeing the corridor, the flaring torch bolted to the wall and Nathradril sitting in her own cell, looking at him expectantly, 'this is what we're going to do...'

It had taken ages to perfect their plan and make the necessary preparations, and all the time Ylfronir's heart had been thumping, expecting a guard to appear at any minute. But now there was only one more thing to do. He removed his cloak and tore it in half…a job made easier by the fact it was already pretty threadbare. Then he took his flask of water, and Nathradril's, which he had asked her to toss across to him, and poured their contents all over the rectangle of cloth. Holding the soaked fabric in one hand, he reached out between the bars, stretching as close to the torch clamped on the wall as he could reach. Then, with a single flicking motion, he tossed his cloak over the flames. As it left his hand he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not wanting to know whether he had failed at this crucial moment….but the hiss of extinguished embers and Nathradril's relieved exhalation told him all he needed to know. He opened his eyes to pitch darkness, and settled down in his cell to wait.

He lost track of how long they sat in the darkness, both too tense with anticipation to speak. But eventually they heard dragging footsteps and heavy breathing approaching. Ylfronir smiled nervously to himself, as he had hoped it seemed to be the same guard. But he could only hear one set of footsteps, so it looked like she was not returning with Druluk. This did not affect his plan, but it added another dollop of worry to the cold tension in his stomach. The footsteps drew closer and Ylfronir heard an exclamation of annoyance at the darkness. He held his breath for a moment, but then heard the footsteps draw closer still. So she hadn't gone back for another torch. So far so good.

'Bloody shoddy torches…' he heard her mutter, 'tinder boxes should be standard kit these days, I must speak to Thrrl…' then, 'Right,' her tone changed as she approached the cells, becoming harshly authoritative, 'Drink up prisoners, every last drop, it's the last you'll see for…a whi…argh!'

There was a heavy thud as she tripped over the rope they had stretched taut, an inch above the floor, diagonally between their two cells. In a flash, Ylfronir sprang to grab at her through the bars, preparing to drag her heavy form towards his cell, and get his hands around her throat if necessary. But she was not struggling. It seemed that by some miracle the fall had stunned her. Feeling weak with relief, Ylfronir still pulled her towards him, and reached for her neck, but this time just to get hold of the key which hung there. It took some contortions to unlock his own cell door, but the adrenaline coursing through his body let him strain his wrist with barely a thought. Then it was the work of seconds to scramble over the prone orc guard and free Nathradril.

'Where to?' she asked

'Druluk,' replied Ylronir without hesitation.


	8. Collective Responsibility

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

Druluk had long given up asking where he was being taken. He concentrated on matching the pace of the orc guard exactly so that she didn't end up kicking him. Her metal toed boots had gashed his shin once already. So when she suddenly stopped dead he carried on walking forwards,

'Oh no you don't!'

With surprising agility she dragged him to her side and forced him into a headlock before he could even speak

'Mmmf! Mmmf!' he struggled, but she only gripped harder. So he felt extraordinarily relieved to hear Thrrl's voice saying

'Release him,'

'He tried to escape…' protested his captor

'He's not going anywhere.'

Druluk felt the pressure released. He staggered, gasping for air, and said hoarsely

'I wasn't…'

'Silence!' came the order in unison. Druluk clenched his teeth.

'You are to come with me, now,' Thrrl addressed him, 'the Collective wishes to question you.'

'All fifty thousand…?'

'Insolence will not be tolerated…'

'…sorry, sorry...'

'…you are to be interrogated by 10 randomly chosen members of the Collective.'

'Randomly chosen…?'

'…to make decisions on behalf of us all. No more questions.' Thrrl turned away, and, 'Agna,' she addressed the other orcwoman, 'you can return to the cells now.'

The other orcwoman nodded, and set off back down the corridor. Thrrl turned back to Druluk, and gestured towards the archway which framed the other end of the passageway.

'After you,' she said.

The room he entered was a perfect circle…or as near to a perfect circle as could be achieved with chisels. Stationed at exactly equal intervals around its walls were nine orc women. A push from Thrrl behind him sent him stumbling into the centre. He looked round and saw her take up a position standing in the doorway, so completing the circle of orcs inside the circle of stone. Their ten pairs of eyes bored into him.

'You are Druluk of Isengard?' came a voice. He spun round, trying to locate the speaker and face her, but then another voice spoke

'Answer the question,' and another

'Time is of the essence,'

'I am Druluk of the Orc Republic,' he said, turning his head to try and speak to all of them at once.

'But you once served Saruman.' This was Thrrl's voice, and it was more of a statement than a question, but he answered anyway,

'I was once forced to labour for Saruman, yes.'

'Who is Sauron?' This was a voice which had not spoken before, a soft voice, yet a voice laden with authority

'I…'

'Have you heard the name before?'

'I think I have…' Druluk racked his brains, 'I think that…yes…Saruman has spoken of this Sauron. He is lord of a place called …Mordor I think, which lies to the East.'

'A powerful lord?'

'Growing in power certainly.'

'A friend of Saruman?'

'Um…I believe they are allies, yes…'

There was a pause, as Druluk's voice trailed off and no new questions were forthcoming. Then the soft voice spoke again,

'This Saruon has sent word to us. To the orcs of Moria. He calls for our support. He wants us to march with him in the war which is coming.'

Druluk slowly digested this.

'And are you…?' he asked

'We are considering it.'

'You would willingly let this Saruon use you, just as Saruman used me, and others of your kin?' Druluk felt shock ripple around the room, but whether it was at his words or at his boldness in saying them he could not tell. Then someone replied,

'In alliance with Sauron we could claim Middle Earth for ourselves, send the Elves and men running for their lives as they have done to us so many times before…'

'…no!' interrupted Druluk, 'it would not be an alliance, it wouldn't be an equal partnership! Sauron would…'

'…why are we listening to this elf loving traitor?' broke in yet another of the orcs, 'of course he wouldn't want us to go to war against his friends!'

'He may know things which will help us,' remonstrated the soft voice,

'But we can't trust him!'

'What if,' Thrrl spoke over several protesting voices, 'he was one of us…'

'We know he's one of us!' exclaimed another voice in frustration, 'but he's been corrupted by Saruman and now by elves…'

'No,' said Thrrl, 'I meant, what if he became a member of the Collective now. He could take the oath.'

A whisper went around the room. Druluk saw heads nodding.

'What oath….?' he asked, slowly turning to look at Thrrl.

'You would have to swear allegiance to the Collective, and renounce all enemies of the Collective.'

'I...might consider that…' said Druluk slowly, 'but can I just say that Ylfronir and Nathradril…'

'Your friends no longer enter into the matter,' Thrrl interrupted him, 'they will be dead by now.'

'Dead?' Druluk stood stock still, looking into Thrrl's eyes, was this a trick? But there was no deceit in her gaze.

'The water we gave them was poisoned.'

'Poisoned,' repeated Druluk, feeling a growing numbness spreading through his body, 'poisoned...?' He dropped to his knees on the stone floor and swallowed hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He heard Thrrl say,

'I'm sorry…' and then the soft voice spoke with icy precision:

'It was a collective decision. We do not take lives lightly, but in this instance…'

Druluk screamed, and scrambled to his feet, but before he could lunge at any of the circle two pairs of arms caught hold of him. As he struggled, he saw that one of those restraining him was Thrrl. She looked right at him, and whispered,

'Druluk…please…Your friends are gone…' he kicked her hard, but she held onto him, and continued in the same tone, 'we need your help. I need your help. Please. Just swear the oath…'

'Swear in with those who killed my friends?' he spat,

'Swear in with your people,' she countered, 'your knowledge is vital, but they have to trust you in order to listen to you…'

'Oh, like they'll trust me!'

'If you swear, and mean it, then of course we will trust you. So what's it to be, Druluk? Back to your cell, or will you help us?'

Druluk stopped struggling, and Thrrl and the other orcwoman slowly released their grip, and returned to their places in the circle. He stared at the floor, felt the urge to hurt someone diminish, and even in his grief part of him hated himself for having lost control in that violent outburst. He took several deep breaths.

'Well?' came the soft voice, expectantly, 'what is your decision?'

………….

Ylfronir halted, listening intently. He was aware of Nathradril beside him by the warmth radiating from her body alone – she was making no sound. They were both using all the skills of concealment they could muster to make their way noiselessly and swiftly from shadow to shadow in the stone passageways. So far they had been lucky, but they still had no idea whether they were getting any closer to where Druluk had been taken. But now he thought he could hear raised voices nearby...

Nathradril nudged his arm. She had pressed her ear against the wall of the passageway itself. Ylfronir did the same, and the voices became clearer. He strained to hear what was being said…

…and heard Druluk's voice, unmistakeable among those of the orcwomen,

'I, Druluk…' Ylfronir heard him say, 'swear allegiance to the Orc Collective of Moria…renouncing all…'

Ylfronir jerked his head away from the wall as if burned.

'The traitor!' he heard Nathradril exclaim, 'I knew he wasn't to be trusted since he stopped me firing on those orcs back when they captured us! I don't care if he once saved your life, I…' she stopped talking and swayed slightly on her feet. Ylfronir turned to her

'Are you OK?'

'I…I just felt a bit dizzy, that's all...'

There was a sudden noise from the end of the corridor. Both elves froze,

'Come on,' hissed Nathradril, 'we've got to get out of here,'

'But Druluk…' protested Ylfronir weakly, still trying to come to terms with what he had heard.

'But nothing.' She darted back the way they had come. Ylfronir looked from her to the blank wall in anguished indecision. Had he heard correctly? Had Druluk really betrayed them? The noise from the other end of the corridor came again, closer now. When he looked back to Nathradril she was already out of sight. There wasn't really any choice, was there?

Two hours later, they saw the glimmer of daylight at the end of a tunnel. Ylfronir's heart leapt. Their method of navigating had simply been to choose any route where the floor seemed to slope upwards, or else where the air currents seemed cooler, and at last this seemed to have paid off. They had been lucky, only one orc had noticed them, and she had been alone so they managed to overpower her between them and seize her weapon – a short sword – after which they felt they were in a marginally stronger position. They had passed other groups of course, and patrols had marched past them as they hid themselves in corners, holding their breath, but none had detected their presence. And now it really looked as if they were going to make it.

As they left the tunnel, the smell of fresh air was almost intoxicating. Ylfronir tipped his head back and closed his eyes, breathing it in deeply and gladly. Beside him, Nathradril dropped to her knees. He looked at her, and saw in the daylight that her face was deathly pale.

'Nath…?'

'I …feel…'

Ylfronir crouched down beside her, in time to see her eyes roll upwards in their sockets. She collapsed towards him, and he caught her and laid her gently on the ground.

'Nathradril?' he said, shaking her shoulder, 'Nathradril?'

Her breathing was almost imperceptible, and when he found her pulse it was weak and slow. He stood up again, and looked down at her lifeless form, gnawing at his thumbnail in fear and frustration. What the hell was he to do? His knowledge of the skill of healing was limited at best, and her startlingly white face and cold skin hinted that whatever ailed her was certainly beyond his ability. He looked around in desperation. They were right by the entrance to the mines of Moria, they couldn't stay here. He crouched down once more, to hoist her into his arms, and stood, looking down the mountainside. Far in the distance, across the Great Anduin, lay his own home. Not for the first time, he wished that he had never left.

He began to notice a sound…the sound of rushing water. Was there a river or stream nearby? Looking around he spotted the telltale glint of water between the trees over to his left. He headed towards it. He didn't know where he was exactly, but there were only two rivers which ran down from this region of the mountains – the Silverlode and the Nimrodel. Any stream would surely be a tributary of either. And if he could find one or the other, it would lead him to the woods of Lorien. Not his own home of course, but the border should be within a day's walk if he was swift. And there surely someone would be able to help Nathradril.


	9. Dark Decisions

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

'I don't understand,' said Druluk as he followed Thrrl down the corridor, 'Minutes ago I was a prisoner, and now…'

'You took the oath,' she replied, simply,

'And that's enough?'

She turned on him suddenly, fixing him with an intense stare

'You meant it, didn't you?'

'I…yes…' replied Druluk, miserably.

'The punishment for oath breaking is death.'

'What oath did my friends break?' he said under his breath. Either Thrrl did not hear or she chose to ignore this.

'The meeting will resume in half an hour,' she said, 'do you want to eat something before then?'

'I…uh…'

'The canteen is through that doorway,' she said, pointing. Druluk looked at it, then back at her, questioningly.

'Go on, I'll join you in a moment,' she waved him away. Druluk noticed that another orcwoman was approaching, gesturing urgently at Thrrl. He made his way slowly through the door, catching the first words of their conversation as he entered the canteen

'Thrrl, the prisoners…'

He quickened his pace, not wanting to hear any more.

He was sitting at a table on his own, staring at his plate of boiled fish, when Thrrl joined him after a few minutes. She was noticeably more agitated than before.

'What was that about?' he asked. Thrrl did not answer immediately, but drummed her fingers on the table. At last she spoke, punctuating her sentence with yet more fingernail percussion.

'The (tap) elves (tap tap) have made an attempt to escape.'

Druluk felt his heart leap. Then he remembered something

'You tricked me! You told me they were dead!'

'They are as good as dead. The poison will take effect and they won't get far.'

'But do you _know_ they drank the water?'

'In all (tap tap tap)…in all likelihood they did.'

Druluk stared morosely at his fish again. But there was still hope, Thrrl's twitchiness confirmed that.

'Did _you_ want to kill them?' he asked suddenly, unsure quite what gave him the idea.

'It was a collective decision.'

'But what does that mean?'

'In order for anything to be decided, all 10 council members must agree to it. The decision must be unanimous.'

'So you did want to.'

'It's not quite that simple.'

'I don't understand'

Thrrl sighed, and leant back on the stool she sat on so that it balanced on two of its four legs.

'The council is chosen randomly. Out of the fifty thousand of us. And each council only serves for a month. This is probably my one chance to have any influence over…over anything...'

She paused, but Druluk said nothing, and she continued

'Sometimes you have to be a bit…flexible. Make it easier for some decisions to go through so that in the future other people make it that bit easier for …'

'…_make it that bit easier for you_…?' interrupted Druluk through clenched teeth. Thrrl could not meet his eye.

'Two lives are something to be…_flexible_…over?'

'Druluk, you've got to understand…so much more is at stake…'

'_So much more?_'

'Druluk please…At least 6 members of the council think that going to war is a great idea. They want to march to Mordor to join Sauron…'

'And what's that got to do with anything?'

'I am one of the only ones who strongly opposes it…and now that I'm owed a few favours there's more of a chance that…'

'But if it has to be unanimous then you can stop it alone! Just like you could have stopped them killing my friends!'

She suddenly slammed her hand onto the table, palm down,

'You know nothing!'

'Then explain to me…'

'It's not enough just to stop a decision going through, I need to be able to get decisions put through myself…'

'Like what?'

Thrrl pressed her lips together tightly so that they became a narrow crease. She started tapping her fingers on the table again, indecision etched into her expression…

'_Tell me_!' Druluk grabbed her hand and forced it flat against the table. There was a sudden loud bang as Thrrl let her stool drop back onto four legs. She jerked her hand free and stood up. Druluk swallowed hard in fear. But she merely gestured for him to stand up too.

'We had better head back to the council room,' she said loudly, then added under her breath '_we'll talk on the way_.'

………………………..

It was already night when Ylfronir reached the edge of the Golden Wood. He had found the Nimrodel, and followed it down along its southern bank. But now he realised that the deep fast flowing water lay between him and the main body of the wood. Even alone he doubted whether he could have swum or waded across safely, and when carrying Nathradril it was out of the question. He placed her carefully onto the ground and considered his options.

As he stood, noticing for the first time how much his wrist was really hurting from the way he had twisted it to open up the cell door, he heard a faint rustling behind him. Wearily he raised his hands above his head.

'I seek sanctuary in the realm of Lorien,' he called, 'For myself, and my injured companion Nathradril, who left here but a week ago…'

'So it _is_ an elf,' came a sneering voice, 'In that stained and torn cloak and with no bow one could not be blamed for…'

'Please, enough of the trademark sarcasm,' Ylfronir's voice betrayed how exhausted he felt, 'Haldir does it _so_ much better than you, whoever you are…'

He heard someone jump down from a tree, but could not summon the energy to look round. Instead the sentry walked around to face him.

'My name,' the newcomer said pointedly, 'is Celidel.'

'Well, Celidel,' said Ylfronir, trying to stay calm, 'My friend Nathradril is gravely ill, and…'

'…is that an orc blade?' interrupted Celidel, in horrified tones, indicating the orc sword which Ylfronir had stuffed into his belt,

'Yes,' said Ylfronir simply, 'I need to get Nathradril to…'

'What treachery is this?'

'Celidel!' shouted Ylfronir, 'she could die!'

The sentry looked around, as if hoping that someone else would appear to make the decision for him.

'Dammit, Celidel, I'm an _elf!_ She's an elf! Look!' he drew the blade. Celidel flinched, but Ylfronir threw it past him, so that it splashed into the river, 'it's gone, now will you please…'

'You cast an orc weapon into the _Nimrodel_…?'

'Aaargh!' Ylfronir groaned in frustration, and bent down to pick up Nathradril once more, 'look if you won't help me…' he staggered slightly, light though her body was, as he took her weight. 'then I'll be on my way…' He took a few faltering steps back upstream.

'Hey, stop…' Celidel darted to block his path, 'Look, this is a serious matter, but if she's really ill…'

'Oh, you noticed then,'

'Just…let me…' Celidel reached out, and Ylfronir let him carry Nathradril

'You can come with me, but you will have to answer to the Lady Galadriel for your conduct.'

'I'm quaking in my boots,' muttered Ylfronir, as he followed Celidel along the river bank.

Within a few minutes Celidel halted.

'There's a rope hidden in the undergrowth just there,' he said, indicating with his foot. 'Pick it up and tie one end around that tree.'

Ylfronir did as he asked.

'Now throw the other end across the river.'

Ylfronir tossed the rope at the other bank, but it fell short and splashed into the water. He dragged it out, now soaked, recoiled it and prepared to throw again, all the time under Celidel's condescending gaze. This time it reached its target, and another elf hiding in the bushes on the other side of the bank sprang out to catch it. This elf tied the other end around a tree on the other side so that a taut tightrope stretched across the churning torrent.

Without a word to Ylfronir, Celidel stepped onto the rope, still carrying Nathradril, and made his way delicately across. Ylfronir's heart was in his mouth – of course elves had an excellent sense of balance, but when carrying someone else? However, he and Nathradril made it safely to the other side. Then he turned back to call to Ylfronir

'Are you coming, or shall I come back and carry you?'

Ylfronir simply scowled back, and stepped onto the tightrope himself. Normally this would have been a piece of cake, but he was shattered, and thanks to his inexpert throwing technique, the rope was wet and slippery. He had to make his way across painfully slowly and twice he nearly toppled off. He did not try to disguise his relief at reaching the other bank.

'You're as bad as the dwarf we had here the other day,' said the elf from the other side of the river, jokingly.

'Dwarf?' asked Ylfronir, his mind spinning,

'Never mind,' said Celidel, 'Come, we must hurry, it is no longer safe in these parts in the hours of darkness,'

'Oh, you don't say!'

Celidel addressed the other elf, 'I'll send back someone else to take up your post. In the meantime, you had better patrol the other side of the Nimrodel. I've got to take these two to the city.'

'Understood.'

……………..

Thrrl was leading him back to the Council room by a different route from that with which they had left it. Druluk had begun to wonder whether she was taking him there at all, perhaps he was to be thrown back in jail. He had absolutely no reason to trust her, after all. But suddenly she stopped

'I think…' she began, looking around, 'that it's safe to talk here.'

'Alright…' said Druluk slowly,

'You remember how I said that the 10 members of the council are chosen randomly?'

'Yes…'

'Well, actually only 9 are chosen at a time. One member of the old council always remains to be part of the new council. It's the only way to achieve some sort of continuity.'

'OK…'

'But there is no law that says it must be a _different_ council member who remains behind each time.'

'OK…'

'And for the last year, a certain council member has served on _every_ council. Her name is Glonya.'

'Which one was she?'

'The one who told you about Sauron's offer in the first place.'

_The one with the soft voice_, thought Druluk to himself.

'But surely people, y'know, make a fuss…'

'Fewer than you would think.'

'But...'

'Often people don't want to be selected to be part of the council in the first place. They are only too glad to let someone like Glonya take control.'

'But how does she get chosen to remain behind each time?'

'I don't know. But can't you see the danger?'

'I'm not sure what you're getting at…'

'She can do anything she wants. If she can't get a unanimous decision with one council, all she needs to do is wait until one comes along which will agree with her.'

'OK…'

'So you see how important it is that I get support within _this_ council…'

'Um...'

'She can't do it again! She can't stay! We have to make a stand. Take this Sauron thing, I know that she likes the idea. And I can't let her sit around until she gets a council which will agree to take us to war…But to stop her I need the whole council on my side. So you see…' her voice cracked slightly, 'why I had to make some…compromises…'

Druluk said nothing. His mind was reeling with all these complications. He looked at Thrrl, who was compulsively grinding the heel of her boot against the wall as she talked. During their brief conversation she had already scraped off a small pile of sandy dust.

'You don't understand, Druluk, what it's like. This responsibility. The _greater' _she dug her heel in even more viciously, '_good_,' she spat. 'Fifty thousand, Druluk, have you _any idea_?'

Her wild stare was frightening, yet at the same time, something in it reminded Druluk of how he'd felt back in that cavern at Isengard, as he realised what he'd created.

'I…' he began, but then Thrrl seemed to shake herself out of it and return to her former brusqueness.

'We must not be late for the Council. You must make the case against joining Sauron as strongly as you can.'

She stalked off along the passageway, and Druluk had no option but to follow.


	10. Life and Death

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

Dawn was breaking as they reached Galadhrim. Celidel had long tired of taunting Ylfronir, who was beyond caring in any case. They passed through the city gate without comment. Then Celidel turned

'I must take Nathradril to the place of healing.'

'I want to stay with her…'

'You must explain yourself to the Lord and Lady.'

'Right now…?'

Another elf appeared at Ylfronir's elbow, as if from nowhere.

'Right now,' affirmed Celidel. He gave a sign to the other elf. Ylfronir felt a firm hand take his arm. He shook it off, saying

'Alright! I'll go.'

Ylfronir followed the other elf along the winding stone paths between the trees. All was grey and seemed as insubstantial as mist in the dawn light. His thoughts were full of Nathradril. He focussed on that worry rather than let the bewildered agony of Druluk's betrayal occupy his mind. But however much he…

'Are you listening to me?'

The other elf was speaking to him.

'I…'

'I _said_, did you want to clean yourself up a bit before coming into the presence of the Lady Galadriel?'

Ylfronir inspected his clothes. They were, it had to be admitted, filthy. He ran one hand through his hair, and came to an abrupt halt as tangles caught at his fingers. And across his shoulders was the ridiculous one half of a cloak that he had left after their escape from the orc cell, fastened with his…MEND badge. He looked at the badge thoughtfully, removed it, breathed on it, and polished it on his sleeve. Then he pinned it back in place.

'Well?' asked the elf

'All done,' he said. 'Let's go and see Galadriel.'

The elf snorted disparagingly.

'Very well.'

His guide led him to the foot of a ladder which led into the heights of a huge Mallorn tree.

'Up here,' he said.

Ylfronir took hold of the rungs.

'Hang on!' said the other elf, producing a horn from his pocket. He blew it once. Ylfronir rested his head against the cool rungs of the ladder and closed his eyes. Three more blasts of the horn came from above, and he felt the other elf shake his shoulder

'You may go up now.'

'_Thanks_.'

Stepping off the ladder, Ylfronir fought to breathe steadily. His wrist was throbbing with a pain he would not have thought possible. He was standing on a big wooden platform, the great house where Galadriel and Celeborn dwelled over to his left. He was just preparing to march over, head held high, when a female voice spoke.

'Celidel can be a little…over zealous…'

Ylfronir turned, and saw a white clad elfwoman standing on the opposite side of the platform.

'My la…uh, Galadriel?' he asked, determined not to conform to class expectations,

'Yes.'

'What, uh…'

'According to Celidel you desecrated the Nimrodel…'

'Desecrated!'

'He is…a little prone to exaggeration…What is your version of events?'

'I threw an orc sword into the river,' he said simply.

'I think I might need a little more explanation than that…'

'Read my mind…' muttered Ylfronir, sourly

'I shall ignore that,' she said, 'for now.'

She walked around the platform to stand by his side.

'I know you brought Nathradril back with you.'

'Is she…'

'She has been poisoned. Orc poison.'

'Will she…?'

'Our best healers are with her... I need to know what happened.'

'We were…in Moria…'

He saw her tense

'_What_? What could possibly have possessed her? She was here when…'

'When Legolas and Aragorn were here, yes. She said.'

'And she still…'

'She was looking for Mithrandir…'

'Oh the poor deluded child!'

'She's not a child.'

'But what were you doing? You assisted her in this folly?'

'I had…other reasons…'

Galadriel stared at him

'You are from Mirkwood, are you not? Like Nathradril?'

'Yes…' he said guardedly 'like Nathradril.'

'What brings you here?'

'I, um, left…after a sort of…an error of judgement on my part…'

'Would you care to elaborate?'

'Not particularly.'

Galadriel looked him up and down

'I take it you were…detained…?'

'Imprisoned, yes. By the Orc Collective of Moria. Did you know that…'

'…orc affairs do not concern me.'

'Well they should! Being on your doorstep and all…'

'They do not concern me _at the present time_. I am more interested in you. You and your little…organisation.'

She spoke the last word under her breath, staring pointedly at Ylfronir's badge.

'You…know?'

'M…E…N…D…Mirkwood… Elves…and so on' she said, tracing the letters with a finger. She let her arm drop to her side and smiled at him questioningly

'You read my mind?' he asked.

She turned away from him, to look out across the forest

'Well, it's no secret in Mirkwood…' he said

'Are you ashamed, Ylfronir?'

'What? No! I am as committed to the cause of democracy for elves as I was when I joined the society!'

There was a pause. Despite the truth of what he had said, Ylfronir found himself feeling a little uneasy. At last she spoke again:

'And you are here to…undermine my authority?'

Ylfronir couldn't see her face, but from her tone he was getting the impression that she was laughing at him.

'I came here for help.'

She turned back, her face completely composed

'And that is what you shall receive,' she said.

'Can I see Nathradril now?'

'If you think you can climb back down the ladder with that wrist.'

'How did you…? Never mind. I'll be going then…' he turned towards the ladder.

'Though if you ever wanted to draw a bow again you might be advised to stay here for a _little_ while longer… That is if you can bear to accept the hospitality of a _royal_ house.'

'I…'

'Go into the house, climb the main staircase, take the corridor to your left. The first chamber off that corridor is yours to rest in. You can see your friend in an hour or so.'

She began to walk away

'Don't think this makes it all…right…' Ylfronir called after her

'I am very familiar with what's right, thank you.'

'I still…'

'I know.'

……………..

Druluk woke up feeling warm and comfortable for the first time in…as long as he could remember. He stretched luxuriously under the fur blankets on his straw mattress…and remembered everything that had happened over the last few days. He groaned, and tried to suppress the thought, but it was no good. There was no more comfort to be had in bed. Sitting up he cracked his head against the stone roof of the alcove in the cave wall where he had been sleeping,

'Damn!'

This was not looking like a good day.

The day before had been occupied with council meetings. He had been questioned endlessly about Saruman and Sauron. Thankfully they had been more interested in his time under Saruman's command than the circumstances of his escape, and he managed not to mention Jorrig and the others at all. Then he had been taken to this small chamber where he was to sleep. As far as he could tell he wasn't under any sort of guard, but he wasn't relishing this semi freedom. He still had no idea what his oath to the collective was going to mean. But more importantly he still didn't know whether Ylfronir and Nathradril had escaped, or were lying dead or dying in some forsaken tunnel of this dark realm.

Swinging his legs off the bunk he felt an icy chill shiver up his legs when the soles of his bare feet hit the floor. He looked round for his shoes, but the pair of metal reinforced black leather boots sitting in the corner were not those that he had been issued at Isengard. His normal armour seemed to be missing too, and instead a newly polished breastplate with a C moulded into it was leaning against the wall, beneath a chain mail shirt that was hanging from a peg.

He had just finished dressing, reluctantly, when he heard footsteps in the passageway outside. He went to the door and drew back the curtain.

'Hey!' he called after the orc who had just passed

She turned round

'Um, do you know what happened to my boots…'

She stared at him,

'Right, sorry, I guess it's not that important…'

She turned away

'Uh…just one other thing…'

'Yes?'

'Do you know what I'm supposed to be doing…?'

'No.'

'Is Thrrl around…?'

Even from behind he could tell something was wrong, and her expression when she turned round confirmed it

'What's happened?' he asked

'I don't know if…'

'You can tell me, I'm…um…I'm an adviser to the council…'

She looked sceptical, but then sighed

'OK…Look, um, there's been…an accident.'

'An accident?'

'A rock fall... It happens from time to time.'

'A rock fall…' repeated Druluk

'She must have died instantly…'

'Instantly…I…uh…when?'

'Last night.'

'What's going to happen?'

'Regarding?'

'The council!'

'I don't know! And I need to get to work!'

'Oh…right…um…sorry to have kept you…' he mumbled, turning back into his room, his mind in turmoil. Thrrl dead? What was going to happen now?

………………………….

It was noon on the day after they came to Lothlorien when Nathradril regained consciousness. The elf healers had worked all the way through the previous night. Ylfronir had intended to go down to the sanatorium as soon as he'd bandaged up his wrist, but he had accidentally fallen asleep, and he in fact arrived just as she woke. Now he was standing awkwardly at her bedside.

'How are you…?'

'Just really…tired,' she said, wincing slightly as she struggled to sit up. One of the attendant elf healers stepped forward as if to stop her, but she glared at him and he seemed to think better of it.

'I've, um, spoken to the lady Galadriel…' Ylfronir began

'Oh, you've spoken to the _lady_ Galadriel…' said Nathradril, testily, 'Is that how it's going to be from now on, Ylfronir?'

The other elves present shared a curious glance,

'Could we have some privacy?' asked Nathradril, employing the glare again. The healers looked reluctant, but conceded

'5 minutes.'

When they had left the room, Nathradril beckoned Ylfronir to come closer,

'Abandoning the class struggle already?' she whispered

'No!' he exclaimed, 'it was a slip of the tongue…'

'…calm down! You always take everything so seriously Ylfronir…'

'…Nathradril, she _knows_. Galadriel! She knows about MEND!'

'Ylfronir, Ylfronir, you always think the worst…I worked here for months, remember, she never suspected a thing…'

'She _read my mind!'_

Nathradril laughed derisively, but it turned into a coughing fit. Ylfronir hovered uncertainly,

'Get me the…water…idiot…'

He fetched the jug from the bedside table and poured her a glass, which she gulped down. Then she fell back on the pillows, exhausted.

'She did read my mind,' muttered Ylfronir

'Come on,' said Nathradril, 'We haven't exactly kept a low profile back in Mirkwood, she could have heard from there. It's no secret. And we do wear badges, for crying out loud…' A sudden thought seemed to strike her, 'anyway,' she said, 'who said it first?'

'What?'

'You know…The _D_ word.'

'Well, um…'

'It was you, wasn't it?'

'It may have been…'

'_Ylfronir_!'

'Look, I tell you, she knew already…'

'Maybe. Maybe not. But I can tell you that she _definitely_ did _not_ read your mind…'

'…OK! OK! Have it your way. We do have other things to talk about…'

'Yes…'

'I still can't believe that Druluk…'

'…betrayed us?'

'Nathradril!'

'Well, sorry, but last I heard he was swearing to serve the orcs who did this to me…'

'Nathradril, he wouldn't do that unless he really thought it was right…'

'Right for him!'

'I'm sure there's things we don't understand…'

'…Ylfronir. Face it. He betrayed us. More specifically he betrayed you. And he's an _orc_! If you had met him in Mirkwood you would have killed him on sight!'

'A lot of things which go on in Mirkwood are wrong…'

'…fair point, but if you _didn't_ , then that orc in Mirkwood would kill _you_ so…'

'And that's the way things should be, eh?'

Ylfronir strode over to the window and looked out moodily at the sunlit treetrunks.

When he turned back, Nathradril's eyes were closed. He suddenly felt overcome with sorrow at all that had happened.

'Nathradril?' he said softly. She opened her eyes

'I was just…'

'…resting your eyes,' he smiled. 'Look, we don't have to talk about this now,'

'But time is running out!'

'Time?'

'Ylfronir, the ships are leaving…I hadn't really thought about it before, but…'

'Ships?'

'Sailing to the West? Come on, Ylfronir, you weren't in exile _that_ long, you must have heard…'

'Well, I…'

'I didn't think I wanted to go just yet…but now…'

'You would abandon everything?'

'Abandon what? The campaign is in complete disarray. And in the undying lands we could start again!'

'I thought you were dead set on seizing a ring of power…'

'…I'm trying to be realistic, Ylfronir.'

'But the war…'

'You want to _fight_ now? Against your little orc friends?'

'I don't know!' he shouted, slamming his injured arm against the wall. The pain brought tears pricking to his eyes. He came and sat down on the edge of her bed, 'But leaving…seems so much like bailing out…' he said.

The door to the chamber opened

'I think that's enough talking,' said an elf healer, with a disapproving stare at Ylfronir. He stood up.

'Do you call that…five minutes?' asked Nathradril defiantly, but the way her gasping breathing punctuated her speech put Ylfronir in no mood to argue for longer.

'I'll come back later', he promised.

As he left the room, the healer followed him

'How is she?' Ylfronir asked him quietly. The other elf looked troubled

'In all honesty…I don't know. We have used what skill we have to try and cleanse the poison from her body, but…'

'But?'

'She is not well.'

'She's weak, yes, but surely she'll regain her strength with time…'

'Perhaps.'

'Perhaps?'

'Nothing is certain in these dark days…'

'Oh spare me the platitudes!' Ylfronir exclaimed. The other elf looked affronted, and Ylfronir tried to stay calm. 'Sorry,' he said, 'please tell me what you think…'

'Only that orc poisoning is…unpredictable.'

'Unpredictable?'

'She could recover and yet be struck down by its effects once more at any time in the future.'

'Struck down? You mean…she would collapse, like yesterday…?'

'Yes. Or, unlike yesterday, it could be fatal.'

'Fatal,' repeated Ylfronir, uselessly, 'fatal…' He was suddenly acutely aware of his own breathing, in and out, and the very atmosphere of the room seemed to be at a higher pressure,

'Can't you do something?' he asked, hearing his own voice as if another person was speaking,

'We have done everything we can.'

'When?'

'When…?'

'When will she…'

'Nothing is certain.'

'Nothing is certain,' repeated Ylfronir, feeling sick.

The elf healer took his arm.

'Come. You too need to rest.'

…………………..

Druluk tramped along the passageway, the unfamiliar boots blistering his heels. He had been roaming the tunnels of the Collective stronghold for hours, in a stupor of fear, confusion and regret. No one had come to his chamber to tell him what he was supposed to be doing, so he had set out to search for Ylfronir and Nathradril. He didn't dwell too much on the thought of whether he would find them dead or alive.

Often he would meet orcwomen, either walking along the passages themselves or else standing on guard, but he strode past purposefully and barely drew a glance. It seemed as though the ordinary workers of the Collective paid little attention to what was actually going on around them – they carried out whatever duties they had been allocated, and that was all. Sometimes he caught a glimpse, through an open archway or a ventilation shaft, of an armoury or a workshop, and as he watched the industrious figures at work he tried to imagine all 50 thousand. But all he could see in his mind's eye was the 50 thousand of them lined up on a battlefield. For now that Thrrl was dead that was surely inevitable.

As he had been contemplating this, his pace had slowed without him noticing, and then some unconscious impulse made him stop altogether. He looked around. He realised that he had absolutely no idea where he was, or how he was going to get back to the room where he slept. But that wasn't what had brought him to a halt. A faint scraping noise was coming from somewhere nearby. He looked around. The tunnel was bare. The noise came again. It seemed very close…almost…yes…it was coming from beneath his feet. Druluk looked down. He was standing on a round wooden trapdoor.

Slowly, deliberately, he took a step backwards, and looked around once more, listening hard. But it did not seem as though anyone was nearby. He lowered himself onto his knees and ran his hands over the wooden circle, feeling for a fingerhold. The edges did not fit exactly into the recess in the floor, there was space to squeeze his fingers in between. He wriggled them into the gap, gripped, and tugged. It was easier to move than he had anticipated, and he dragged the wooden cover to one side. Then he looked back at the gaping hole in the floor.

'Is…anyone…there?' he asked hesitantly, speaking as loud as he dared. The scraping noise came again, but at a higher, more urgent frequency.

'Ylfronir?' he asked, hardly daring to breathe. There was no change in the sound he heard. He edged closer to the hole, still on his knees, and peered inside. He could see nothing in the blackness, but the sound was definitely coming from down there.

Standing, Druluk went over to the bracket on a nearby wall which held a torch. He removed it, and holding its wooden handle he went once again to the pit. This time he lay full length on his stomach, and stuck his torch bearing arm right down inside, hanging his head over the edge.

'What the…'

The upside down scene which met his eyes was the last thing he had expected. An orc was lying on the floor of the cave below, tightly bound with ropes, and with a cloth tied around her head that both gagged her and obscured her face. He drew back uncertainly. Was this another prison? But something about the way that the bound orc was grinding the metal toecap of her boot against the wall of the cave, producing the scraping sound he had heard, made him think again.

'Thrrl?' he called uncertainly, 'is that you?'

She stopped scratching the wall

'Thrrl?'

She gave a definite nod.

'I, um…I'm coming down…'

He scanned the walls of the cave for how best exactly to do this. He saw that there was a metal ladder lying uselessly on the cave floor, which was maybe 6 feet below, though it was difficult to judge in the flickering torchlight. Not all that far to drop. If he could just manoeuvre himself into the right position…He started to scramble onto his hands and knees, but as he drew the torch back out of the opening it slipped from his hand and fell into the cave

'Shit!'

He saw it hit the ground and roll, thankfully not in Thrrl's direction. He was just breathing a sigh of relief when the torch suddenly flared and more flames leapt up. He realised that there were piles of straw in the corners of the cave. There was no longer any time to hesitate. Legs first he let himself down through the hole, arm muscles complaining bitterly as they took his weight. He dropped to the floor, felt the fire's heat on the back of his neck, and rushed to Thrrl's side. He tore off the gag

'What the _hell_?'

'I'm rescuing you…' he muttered, tugging desperately at the knots in the ropes

'This place is on fire!'

'I had noticed…'

'Glonya?'

'What?'

'Did she start the fire?'

'Uh…not exactly…' Druluk's hands were slippery with sweat and the knots seemed to be getting no looser,

'Hurry up!'

'I'm trying!'

By some miracle he managed to loosen the ties which bound her hands. He dragged off the loops of rope then stood up

'That'll have to do…'

'What about…'

'No time!' He pulled her upright. She balanced unsteadily, her legs still tied together.

'Did _you_ start the fire?'

Druluk didn't answer. He grabbed the ladder, which already felt hot beneath his hands, and set it against the trapdoor.

'Come on!' He took her arm and helped her hobble to its base

'How am I supposed to…?'

'Just _go_!'

She grabbed the rungs and started to pull herself up the ladder, Druluk shoving her from below. At last she managed to fling her arms out onto the floor of the passageway above and wriggle to safety. The metal of the ladder was almost burning Druluk's hands as he followed close behind.

They rested against the passage wall for a moment, Druluk overwhelmed by relief. Then his mind caught up

'I thought you were dead?'

'We very nearly were….'

'No, this morning…someone told me you had died in a rockfall.'

'Huh, I'd have thought Glonya would have come up with something more inventive…' Thrrl started to prise the other knots apart.

'Glonya?'

'Yes…look, are you going to help me?'

'I'm not good at knots…'

'I know! But we haven't got time…'

Druluk started working on the rope around her ankles

'Why did Glonya do this?'

'Isn't it obvious?'

'Um…'

'She wanted to make a point. Silence me and in doing so frighten the rest of the council into doing what she wants…'

'Right…' Druluk sounded doubtful, 'but….um….why not _actually_ kill you then?'

'Perhaps she has some vestiges of a conscience.'

'Perhaps…' said Druluk, still unsure, 'um, how did she manage to imprison you anyway?'

'I...I came here because I received a message that the elves had been sighted down this corridor….'

'…Ylfronir! Was he…?'

'….it was a trick. They weren't here, but Glonya was waiting for me…'

'…right,' said Druluk slowly, trying to gather his thoughts

'What's the matter with you?' said Thrrl, accusingly, prising one knot apart and starting on the next, 'don't you believe me?'

'I don't know…Is this some sort of test?'

She let the rope go and sighed heavily, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling. When she spoke again, it was with careful restraint

'Druluk, not everything is about you.'

'I wasn't…'

'This is really, _really_ important…'

'I know…'

'_So shut up and help me get to the council meeting_.'

'OK…'


	11. Free Will

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

Ylfronir was not keen on horses. In his experience they were smelly and unpredictable, and the one he now found himself riding was no exception. The mare, which went by the name of Myrl, seemed also to be suffering from dandruff. But she was carrying him in a matter of days on a mission which could otherwise have taken weeks. With her help he could find Jorrig and be back in Loth Lorien by the time Nathradril had recovered. The potential for a quick getaway was also a distinct advantage if he ever were to run into an elf who might ask annoying questions such as whether he actually had permission from Galadriel for this little venture. Or for that matter, if he had asked before taking Myrl from the royal stable back in the Wood.

He hadn't told Nathradril where he was going. He hadn't wanted to face the barrage of questions or the accusations of betrayal. But he felt an obligation, somehow, to at least tell Jorrig that Druluk wasn't coming back. No more, no less. Deliver that message and end his involvement in orc affairs.

Of course, finding Jorrig was no simple matter. After a day's riding along the valley he reckoned he was now in the vague vicinity of the orc camp, but he had no idea where precisely it was, and he couldn't be sure they had not moved on. In the gathering dusk, Ylfronir decided he stood no chance of finding any signs at all until the morning, so he dismounted and prepared to wait out the night in a welcoming looking oak tree.

Usually Ylfronir found trees comforting, but however much he tried, closing his eyes, to imagine himself back in Mirkwood, before Gollum's escape, before, even, he joined the MEND society, it was impossible. During the day's ride he had managed to concentrate on choosing a path, staying balanced on Myrl's back and dissuading her from tucking into the choice green shoots of whatever plant they happened to be passing, but now, sitting in a tree in the moonlight, there was no such distraction.

Druluk. Even to think the name made his chest tighten. He found himself digging the thumbnail of his right hand into his left palm and clenching his jaw. It took a real effort to relax the muscles again. Druluk…

'How _could_ he?' he muttered under his breath. The only reply was the rustling of the leaves.

'_How could he_?' he shouted suddenly. A night bird screeched and flapped off from a nearby tree, only just visible as a black shape in the darkness. Ylfronir bit his tongue, hoping there were no wargs in the vicinity.

The moment when he had heard Druluk's voice back in the tunnel kept replaying again and again in his mind. Had he heard correctly? But of course. His hearing was perfect. Had the words been taken out of some wider context, a context which would explain the apparent betrayal as nothing of the kind? It seemed impossible. Ylfronir leant his head against the rough bark of the tree and tried to think logically. Why should he feel hurt at Druluk's actions? He had known the orc for but a week after all. Hardly long enough to forge a lifelong friendship. But he had felt a bond with him nonetheless. And there was something else. Another reason why this disloyalty, and the manner in which he had discovered it, hurt him so deeply.

_'Ever the eavesdropper, Ylfronir,'_ he whispered to himself in the darkness.

And he was back there. Ten years ago. At the foot of that other oak tree, listening. _Listening_.

………..

Thrrl swept along the corridor, Druluk following blindly, feeling almost as though he were being dragged in her wake.

'Why did you come looking for me?' she asked abruptly, over her shoulder

'I…wasn't exactly…' he stammered.

She sniffed thoughtfully then continued without further reply. Druluk jogged a couple of steps to bring himself to her side.

'I was looking for my friends,' he said simply.

'They are not your friends. You forsook them with your oath,' she said automatically, her mind clearly elsewhere

'You said _are'_

'What?'

'They _are_ not my friends. Not were. You don't think they're dead…'

'A slip of the tongue. They were poisoned. We will find the bodies.'

Druluk let his pace slow slightly again so that Thrrl drew ahead. He didn't want her to see the expression on his face.

They passed through an archway and entered a new passageway. This one felt familiar. Druluk realised it led to the council chamber. He began to walk even more slowly, letting a wider gap open up between himself and Thrrl, as he wondered for the first time what exactly she was going to do, and more to the point what was going to happen to him now.

As he dragged his footsteps along the flagstones, voices in the council chamber became audible, though it was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying. One voice murmured something, then another, then there seemed to be a burst of applause. Up ahead, Thrrl suddenly broke into a run. His feeling of trepidation mounting even further, Druluk followed.

………..

When dawn broke, Ylfronir climbed right to the top of the oak to look for signs of the Orc Republic. And his efforts were rewarded by the sight of a wisp of smoke rising from a region of the forest about a mile to the west. He dropped to the ground and called for Myrl.

Half an hour's ride later he found the camp. At first sight there was nothing untoward about it. Situated in a large clearing, some rudimentary shelters made from woven branches were clustered around a central fire. The embers from the night before had been carefully covered over so that they still retained their heat, but only tiny tendrils of smoke, like the one Ylfronir had seen, rose up. On one side of the clearing, the side nearest to him in fact, was a dome of earth which he guessed could be some sort of oven or furnace.

Ylfronir dismounted and whispered to Myrl to stay put. He crept nearer, keeping an eye open all the time for an orc on sentry duty. But it wasn't until only a bush separated him from the clearing itself that he noticed a figure sitting on the far side of the banked up fire.

'Jorrig?' he called softly, not wanting to wake the whole camp.

The Uruk Hai sprang to his feet at once and stared around intently

'Jorrig, over here!' hissed Ylfronir.

Suddenly the Uruk drew a short sword, and headed in his direction. Confused, Ylfronir stepped out from behind the bush, his empty hands outstretched

'Jorrig, it's _me_!'

'Ylfronir! Is Druluk…'

'…no…'

Jorrig replaced the sword in his belt and looked at Ylfronir, his state of weary anxiety clear from his expression. He gestured for the elf to come and join him by the fire.

'What happened?' he asked, quietly

'We were captured. In Moria.'

'By…?'

'Some….um…orc...' (Ylfronir debated how much Jorrig really needed to have to deal with right now) '…s' he said.

'But you escaped!'

'I escaped…Druluk….um….joined them.'

'Joined them?'

'He took an oath. It sounded like he meant it.'

Jorrig met his gaze, and held it for a few seconds. Then he sighed heavily.

'So there's nothing to be done,' he said.

'Well, I guess not…' said Ylfronir, uncertain what Jorrig was referring to.

They both stared in silence at the fire for a moment or so. Then Ylfronir remembered something.

'You've got a sword!' he exclaimed, 'how…?'

Jorrig drew the blade and passed it to him.

'It's been hammered out of a breastplate,' he said, his voice cold, 'It's not that good, but it'll do for now.'

'For now…? For what? Didn't Druluk say 'no weapons'?'

'Druluk's not here.'

Ylfronir looked at the sword. It seemed pretty flimsy and the blade was crooked, but when he tested the edge with his thumb it was razor sharp.

'Why?' he asked

'We're going to war.'

'_What_?'

'A messenger came. From someone called…Sauron…'

'…_Sauron_!'

'Yes. Calling for all orcs to come and join his army.'

'And you're _going_? Just like that?' Ylfronir couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice, 'Do you know what Sauron…'

'He says we will get our own lands…'

'And you _believe_ him? He's another Saruman, Jorrig, just _worse_…'

'Oh yeah? Well I don't see anyone else offering us any lands…'

'But _war_! These orcs elected you to look after their best interests...How can you lead them to their deaths...?'

'_It wasn't my decision_!' said Jorrig, with such force that Ylfronir was momentarily speechless. Then,

'but you're the leader…' he said, uncertainly, 'you won the election…'

'Yes! But then when this messenger came…It seemed too important a matter for one person to decide…'

Ylfronir suddenly had a premonition of what was coming. His heart felt like a lump of stone in his chest,

'…so we thought we'd have a vote on it.'

'A vote on it,' repeated Ylfronir.

'You gave us the idea!'

'I…did,' said Ylfronir hollowly

'And guess what! The majority thought this Sauron sounded like a great guy!'

'But…'

'But nothing. We voted. And that was that.'

Ylfronir realised he was still holding the sword. He dropped it quickly to the ground.

' This means that we, uh…' he stammered

'Yes. Perhaps you should…' but before Jorrig could finish his sentence, there was a noise from one of the shelters. An orc stuck out his head

'Hey!' he called, 'It's Ylfronir!'

Other voices started up,

'Is Druluk back?'

'What's going on?'

'Ylfronir is just leaving,' called Jorrig. He whispered in the elf's ear 'really. It's for the best. Go now.' His eyes met Ylfronir's one last time, as he said softly, emotionlessly

'We are, after all, at war with elves and men.'

………

When Druluk reached the door of the council chamber, a faintly ludicrous sight met his eyes. Thrrl had burst into the room moments earlier, and now stood in the centre, breathing heavily and trembling as she pointed an accusing finger towards one of the circle of orcwomen. It could only be Glonya. The rest of the circle seemed frozen in shock, forming a tableau which was almost comical. One had her hand up as though about to ask a question, another's mouth gaped open in surprise and yet another stood on one leg, halfway through taking a step towards the intruder.

'She….' announced Thrrl tremulously, her pointing hand shaking, 'she…'

'Thrrl!' cried Glonya, walking over. This broke the spell of the previous moment, and the other members of the council stood at ease once more. Glonya's arms were outstretched, as she said 'how wonderful! We thought you had perished…'

'Liar!' spat Thrrl, 'Despicable, treacherous, villainous…'

'Thrrl, Thrrl, Thrrl, what are you talking about?' Glonya's voice was so measured, so calm, so soft that Druluk himself began to wonder whether Thrrl had got it all wrong.

'You tricked me! You lured me into a trap and…'

'Thrrl, you're confused…did you get hit on the head in that rock fall…?'

'_There was no rock fall_!'

'Mmm,' Glonya raised her eyebrows as she looked round at the other council members, 'whatever you say,'

'Don't listen to her!' Thrrl was almost shrieking now, breathing fast and shallowly as she implored the other orcwomen in the room, 'she's got her own agenda and she'll stop at nothing…'

'I can assure you that I have no 'agenda',' interjected Glonya, still a picture of composure,

'You want us to _join_ _Sauron_!'

There was a moment when no one spoke. Druluk stared around at the circle of councillors. Several of them were looking decidedly uncomfortable. His gaze returned to rest on Glonya, where he caught a glimpse of a flicker of a smile. He began to feel sick.

'It isn't a question of what I want,' said Glonya, in her characteristically soft tone, 'It was a collective decision.'

'Too right! And I am part of the...' Thrrl suddenly stopped short and asked, 'what did you say?'

'It was a collective decision.'

'It…_was_…a collective decision?'

'We made the decision just now. We will send 20 thousand to join Sauron's army.'

'Oh no! No, no, no, no, no, the decision has to be unanimous!'

'It was.'

'But I'm vetoing it!'

'When we decided, _you_ were thought dead. All proper procedure has been followed.'

'You _can't_…'

'It isn't up to me. The Collective has spoken.'

'I…' gasped Thrrl, '_you_…'

'Perhaps it would be best if you went to lie down for a while…'

Thrrl leapt forward, furiously clawing at Glonya's face with her fingernails. Three other members of the council grabbed her to drag her away. She struggled for a moment, then slumped wearily to the ground.

'Leave her,' said Glonya, who had not moved, or put up a hand to the now bleeding scratches on her cheek, 'we have an announcement to make.'

She turned, and swept out of the council chamber. The other council members followed, some looking reluctant, others looking scared, but all looking resigned. A couple of them looked surprised to see Druluk standing in the doorway as they passed, but since Glonya had not halted, none of them stopped to question what he was doing there.

When they had all gone, he walked over, hesitantly, to where Thrrl knelt, alone, in the centre of the floor.

'Thrrl?' he whispered. She was staring intently at the ground whilst gnawing the thumbnail of her right hand. He slowly reached out and touched her gently on the shoulder. She twitched slightly, but did not lash out. He crouched down to her level, took hold of her right wrist and pulled it firmly away. He tried to let her hand rest by her side, but she clutched at his fingers, so he let her grasp them tightly.

'It's not your fault,' he murmured, knowing how empty and useless the words sounded, 'you did all you could…'

'Did I?' she snapped, pulling her hand away sharply, '_did I_?' Her voice was so harsh that Druluk flinched involuntarily. She screwed up her face as though about to scream, but no sound came out. Then she leant forwards, elbows on knees, head in hands and wept, her whole body shaking. Druluk turned away. There was nothing he could do.

…….

With a heavy heart, Ylfronir made his way back slowly through the trees to where he had left Myrl. But when he reached the spot, the horse was nowhere to be seen. He stared intently at the trees. This was definitely the place. And a coarse hair caught on one of the lower branches could only have come from Myrl's mane…

…Something lunged up from the undergrowth and hit him squarely in the stomach. Winded, Ylfronir staggered unevenly to one side, tripped over a root and fell flat on his back. He had barely managed to breathe again when a knee pressed into his chest and someone punched him hard in the face,

'Traitor!'

The voice was familiar, though the pain pulsing through his brain was making it hard to place.

'This…' (the knee dug in further) 'is how you repay…' (another knee joined the first for good measure) '…the _kindness_ of the lady _Galadriel_?' (more blows to his jaw added extra emphasis). The metallic taste of blood started to seep onto his tongue.

'I saw everything! I tracked you after you stole that horse. I thought that would be the worst of your crimes, but to consort with _orcs_…'

'It's no' wha' you thin' he managed to whisper, still half suffocated. He squinted up at his assailant. It was another elf. One with distinctly recognisable features. Ylfronir snatched a gasp of breath, and

'Celidel! Please! Jus' hear me out!' he croaked.

Celidel's fist hovered in mid air

'I…I was honour bound to deliver a message to those orcs…'

'Honour bound by whom?'

'It's hard to…explain….when you can't breathe…'

Celidel released the pressure on his chest slightly

'By whom?'

'It all began 2 weeks ago. I…sort of…befriended…this orc…'

'_Traitor_!'

'Hang on! He had deserted Saruman, he hated the wizard, he was on our side!'

'Impossible.'

'It's true! He wanted to kill Saruman. I went with him to the Tower of Orthanc…'

'But Saruman lives,' said Celidel slowly, 'and you are here unscathed…' Suddenly he drew his knife 'This treachery runs deeper still!'

'Celidel! Just…listen…'

'I've heard enough…'

'No,' hissed Ylfronir, 'I mean, really, _listen_…'

For a moment Celidel froze, and the silence of the night was broken only by...the nearby clink of armoured plates knocking together…

There was a moment, a pause where all parties concerned drew breath…then orcs burst out of the trees on all sides. Celidel leapt to his feet and Ylfronir saw the blade of his knife flash in the sunlight as he stood, defying the onslaught. Ylfronir himself scrambled upright too, his head spinning, but before he could draw a weapon someone cannoned into him and knocked him to the ground again. He just about registered that it appeared to be an Uruk Hai when he heard a voice shouting

'Take them alive! _Alive_!' Ylfronir felt his last reserves of strength ebbing away. The voice had belonged to Jorrig.


	12. On the march

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

'But I don't understand,' said Druluk, as he watched Thrrl grabbing various weapons from the rack on the wall of her chamber and shoving them into a bag,

'You don't want this war,'

'I still don't.' She hefted the bag onto her shoulder and pulled a face. Swinging it down onto her bed, she pulled out a crossbow and tested the weight again. Druluk sat down on the bed himself,

'So why are you going?' he asked.

'I am…I was…supposed to make sure that the best interests of the whole Collective were looked after…'

'Yes?'

'And I failed. The least I can do is suffer the consequences along with everyone else.'

'Get slaughtered, you mean.'

She didn't answer.

In the awkward silence, Druluk stared at the ceiling. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. He had sworn allegiance to these people, and now they had declared war, the thought of which appalled him. And they were willingly binding themselves to another master, just as he had once been bound to serve Saruman, which filled him with disgust. And he still didn't know if Ylfronir was dead or alive, but the balance of probability lay with him being dead, which just made him feel hopeless. And he had no influence over anything, and the one person who had even acknowledged his existence in the whole wretched Collective was joining the army.

Suddenly being a mindless drone following orders seemed quite an attractive proposition.

'Could you lend me a sword?' he asked.

………

'Jorrig!' shouted Ylfronir, as two orcs bound his hands behind his back 'Jorrig, what the hell is going on?'

'Hah, on first name terms, are we?' asked Celidel, struggling to escape as an Uruk Hai did the same to him. Ylfronir ignored him, as Jorrig appeared at last, looking slightly sheepish.

'There had better be a good explanation for this,' fumed Ylfronir

'Ylfronir, we know we can trust _you_. But your friend here…'

'…He's not my friend,' said both Ylfronir and Celidel in unison. Jorrig sighed,

'Ylfronir, we are at war now. And your…uh…_fellow elf_ would most likely bring a contingent of warriors after us if we let him return home…'

'Correct, orc scum!' declared Celidel. Ylfronir sent him a venomous look.

'He wounded 5 of us as it is!' said Jorrig, pointing to some of the orcs Celidel had managed to injure during the ambush. One was bleeding quite heavily.

'Just a shame I didn't manage to…' began Celidel

'Just…shut…up…' hissed Ylfronir through clenched teeth, elbowing him in the ribs.

'The general feeling is that…um…that we should execute him.'

'_What_?'

'We'll let you go, thanks to your friendship with Druluk, but…'

'Oh no! No! You _can't_…'

'I do not need traitors to plead for mercy on my behalf,' said Celidel, but there was a hint of a tremor in his voice. Ylfronir felt as though the world were unravelling around him. He heard himself saying

'If you kill him, you must kill me too,' and almost laughed aloud at the ludicrousness of the statement. From the expressions of some of the orcs around him, it seemed as though they thought this an excellent plan. But Jorrig looked troubled.

'Druluk would not want you to execute prisoners,' said Ylfronir, clutching at straws.

'Druluk's not here,' said Jorrig, quietly, but Ylfronir could see the indecision in his eyes.

'If it wasn't for Druluk, _none_ of you would be here.' Ylfronir declared, hoping that no one was going to start thinking too hard about his reasoning.

'We cannot let you both go,' said Jorrig firmly, though it seemed as though he were convincing himself just as much as Ylfronir. He chewed his upper lip thoughtfully, which had the unfortunate effect of baring the teeth of his lower jaw in an ugly snarl. Ylfronir forced himself to keep eye contact. Eventually, Jorrig sighed heavily, and spoke again.

'For now, we will keep you both prisoner.'

At these words there was a sudden outcry from some of the party. Ylfronir couldn't understand all that was being said, but most of them seemed angry. Jorrig shouted for quiet. When the noise had died down he said

'I have made my decision. Does anyone challenge my leadership?'  
He glared around the assembled throng. Ylfronir swallowed hard, trying not to show his fear. But apart from some disgruntled shuffling, no one stepped forward.

'Very well,' said Jorrig, we will take them with us as we march.'

'March where?' asked Ylfronir, quietly

'To Mordor,' replied Jorrig, in the same subdued tone

'Mordor?' exclaimed Celidel to Ylfronir, 'Why couldn't you have let them kill us here?'

Ylfronir just looked at the ground, too depressed to formulate a reply.

……………..

Druluk was on the march once more. To have a sword in his belt and a helmet on his head was reassuring in its familiarity. And as long as he concentrated wholly on putting one foot in front of the other, he didn't need to think about anything. That had been his mistake in the first place, after all. Letting contemplation come between him and the steady rhythm of his pace. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

He was part of a column of the Collective's army, making their way through the passages of Moria to…he didn't actually know. And he wasn't going to speculate. One-two, one-two, left-right, that was the way…

'…_Druluk_!' Thrrl's insistent voice could not be long ignored.

'What?' he asked, cautiously, not letting the rhythm of his steps falter. Thrrl was marching just behind him, but he did not look round.

'Have you been listening to a word I've said?'

'Um…'

'Make sure you get on the same boat as me…'

'_Boat_?' exclaimed Druluk, craning his neck round to see if she was joking. This was a mistake. He tripped and nearly fell forward. Thrrl grabbed his arm to steady him, saying 'Yes, we will be travelling to Mordor by boat.'

'But how?'

'There's an underground river…' she said dismissively, 'now…'

'…an _underground river_?' interrupted Druluk, 'How…?'

'Druluk! Please, there's something I need to tell you…'

Something in her voice made him turn round to look at her once more. She avoided meeting his eye, and fiddled guiltily with the strap of her pack.

'What is it?' he asked

'It's about…your friends.'

'Ylfronir?' He made no effort to hide the emotion in his voice – a mingling of fear and desperate hope,

'When they escaped, we found that they had extinguished the torch in the passageway,'

'So?'

'They used a cloth that had been soaked in water.'

'In water…' repeated Druluk slowly. Then he realised, 'the _poisoned_ water! They didn't drink it!'

'Well, obviously we don't _know_…'

'But you never found any bodies?'

'…No. Look, I'm sorry…I should have told you before…'

'Yeah, yeah, I guess you should…' said Druluk, distractedly, the new hope filling his mind.

………..

The orcs marched non stop all day, Ylfronir and Celidel stumbling along in their midst. Their arms were bound tightly behind their backs and a pair of Uruk Hai made escape impossible by way of two more ropes that were looped around their throats. Walking too fast led to a sharp tug on the rope that brought them to their knees in the mud. Celidel's tunic was soon in as sorry a state as Ylfronir's own.

Ylfronir was surprised at the pace the orcs managed to keep up, not even stopping when the sun was highest in the sky. But they were shaded by the trees in the valley still. Jorrig did not call a halt when night fell, and they pushed on by moonlight.

'Do they plan to reach Mordor by the morning?' muttered Celidel

Ylfronir glanced over at his fellow prisoner. Despite the mud which now streaked his face and smeared his clothes, Celidel maintained an air of haughty superiority, looking down his nose at their captors. As he looked at him, Ylfronir could not help but feel a pang of guilt. If it had not been for his own misguided efforts to do the right thing by the Orc Republic then neither of them would be in this predicament. But then, had Celidel not been such a prying, interfering busybody then they wouldn't be in this situation either.

As if reading his mind, Celidel spoke

'I may have been a little hasty to condemn you, Ylfronir,' he admitted, 'since the way these goblins…'

'…orcs…' muttered Ylfronir under his breath

'…are treating you does not imply you are in league with them. However, it could all be some sort of elaborate trick…'

'A trick? To trick you? Because you are _so_ important, Celidel…'

'...There's no need to be like that,' said Celidel looking pained, 'and you still haven't explained what you were doing meeting Sauron's allies…'

'I didn't know that they were Sauron's allies, I would never have…'

'Enough talking,' snarled one of the Uruk Hai guarding them.

By this time, they had reached the forest's edge and were marching on open grassland. As Celidel turned his head round to glare at the Uruk who had interrupted them, he caught his foot in a rabbit hole and fell awkwardly to the ground with a cry of pain

'Celidel! Are you…?' began Ylfronir

'I'm fine,' he snapped through clenched teeth, though he had gone white. The Uruk Hai tugged on the rope and he struggled to stand up, Ylfronir trying to help; but just as they managed to balance upright all the rest of the orcs and Uruk Hai threw themselves to the ground

'What the…?'

Another pull on the rope brought the elves to their knees. Celidel groaned in agony. Ylfronir looked desperately from side to side trying to figure out what was going on…and then he heard it. The wing beats in the sky. And the unearthly howl which made his blood run cold.

'Nazgul!' he gasped, and pulled Celidel so that they both lay flat on the grass. A cold rush of air blew through their hair as the winged beast past right above them. Then a dull thud seemed to signal that it had landed nearby.

Ylfronir forced himself to raise his head. A monstrous, scaly reptile with huge bat like wings -still outstretched - had settled on the grass about 15 metres beyond the head of the column of orcs. And sitting atop this nightmarish creature was a spectral figure clad all in black, with a voice that rasped out from beneath its cowl

'Rise, fools!'

Ylfronir saw a lone figure scramble hesitantly to his feet. Even from behind he recognised Jorrig, and had to admire his guts.

'You march to join Sauron?' demanded the Nazgul

'…Yes…' said Jorrig, without much enthusiasm

'Why are there two elves among your number?'

'We've…uh…taken them prisoner. They came upon our camp…'

'Why not kill them?'

'They might…know something…useful?' hazarded Jorrig desperately

'They slow your pace.'

Jorrig digested this. Before he could speak again, the Nazgul announced

'Perhaps they do know something useful. I will take them to Mordor.'

'_You_…?' exclaimed Jorrig. Ylfronir was suddenly aware of the orcs and Uruk Hai near to him shuffling away. He saw the beast in front of him rear up and flap its wings, jumping into flight. He heard the _thwump__ thwump_ of the wingbeats getting faster and faster. And he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, so he only felt the talon encircling his waist, the ground disappearing from under him and the cold wind whipping against his eyelids...

…When he forced himself to open his eyes again it took a monumental effort not to be violently sick. Shutting his eyes again quickly, he took a few deep breaths, then asked, hesitantly,

'Celidel?' His voice was swallowed up by the rushing wind. He swallowed, then tried again,

'Are you there, Celidel?' he shouted, as loud as he dared.

He thought he heard a sort of grunt in reply, but couldn't be sure. He gritted his teeth and made himself look over to his right, where Celidel had been when they were on the ground. And, sure enough, before another wave of nausea made him turn his head away, he caught a glimpse of the elf, clutched in the monster's other claw. His eyes closed again, Ylfronir gradually inched his arm away from where he had been holding it tense against his chest, and reached across the gap between them, trying to ignore the howling gale. Eventually, his blindly questing fingers brushed against Celidel's arm. He followed it until he found the hand, and grabbed hold of it. He felt Celidel squeeze his own hand weakly in reply. The other elf was still alive then, and conscious. That was something. Though given where they were going, it might have been better if they were both dead.

As the terrifying flight continued, Ylfronir lost all track of time. All he knew was the bitter cold and the constant expectation of falling to his death. So it could have been 5 minutes or 5 hours later when they suddenly swooped downwards. If it hadn't been for the pressure of the claw still around his waist, he would have thought that he was in free fall. His eyes snapped open involuntarily, and he caught a glimpse of the ground below, at a lunatic angle. They were still very high up, but he was almost sure he saw a river down there, glinting in the moonlight, before they suddenly lurched upwards again, and all he could see was a blur of stars. He had barely drawn breath before the Nazgul turned a sharp corner, which made him and Celidel swing outwards as they dangled underneath. He heard Celidel cry out in fear, but so far the creature still had hold of them. But what was making it manoeuvre in this way? Was it some sort of sadistic game, before they really were abandoned in mid air? But as they suddenly swooped upwards, he caught sight of another shape in the night sky. He only saw it for a moment, but the silhouette was surely unmistakeable.

'Celidel!' he cried, 'Did you see that? I think I saw an…'

But he stopped mid-sentence, in shock, as an arrow suddenly shot past his face, to embed itself in the monster's thigh. The scaly leg convulsed, the claw which held him opened, and suddenly he was falling. His own screams blended with the otherworldly howl of the Nazgul's steed in pain as he hurtled down.


	13. Troubled Water

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

The eagle caught him.

The eagle caught him. It took a moment or two for him to realise that he was still alive, that the vision he had seen of the bird in the sky had been real, and that he was no longer plummeting towards the ground.

'Are you OK?' someone screamed in his ear, above the noise of the wind. He tried to work out who it could be, whose arm was this which was hanging onto his…

'_Ylfronir_' The person shook him. He turned his head, warily, to see who it was, and

'Nathradril!' he gasped

He saw relief in her eyes, which quickly turned to anger, as she said

'What the _hell_ were you…'

'Nath', he interrupted, 'Celidel's still…'

The eagle must have heard. Sprawled on its back, Ylfronir was uncomfortably aware of every wing beat, as it swerved to face the Nazgul again. Behind him, Nathradril shuffled into an upright kneeling position, clinging to the bird's feathers with both hands. Ylfronir's gaze flicked desperately between her precarious position and the hovering Nazgul which they were fast approaching…

'Hang on to me,' she yelled at him. Trying not to think about what he was doing, Ylfronir edged himself around, staying low against the bird's back. He stretched one arm down around the eagle's neck, and reached up to hang onto Nathradril's legs with the other. She let go with both hands, and pulled her bow from where it hung on her back. Ylfronir gripped her as hard as he could as she put an arrow to the string and tensed to draw.

They were close enough now for Ylfronir to see the limp shape of Celidel still held in the creature's claw. He felt Nathradril release the arrow, saw it tear through the night sky towards its target. The monstrous beast seemed to rear up in mid air as it tried to avoid the arrow, letting go of Celidel as it thrashed the air with its huge wings. The eagle swooped down, sending Ylfronir's stomach into somersaults. He hung onto Nathradril for dear life.

'I can't see him!' he heard her shout, 'Where…?' then a sudden jolt almost dislodged Ylfronir from the eagle's back, as the bird grabbed Celidel out of the air in its own talons.

'Got him!' cried Nathradril, exultantly. 'Now for the Nazgul…'

'What …?' began Ylfronir, hoarsely. He raised his head a few inches to scan the night sky, 'I can't even see it any more!' he shouted, 'let's just…'

There was a sudden screech from above. Ylfronir tipped his head right the way back and saw the jagged outline of the Nazgul bearing down on them. The eagle was still descending rapidly.

'Go back up!' screamed Nathradril, letting another arrow fly, 'we can finish it!' but, to Ylfronir's relief, the bird did not heed. They plunged towards the ground. Hindered by avoiding the arrows and its more unwieldy shape, the Nazgul did not seem to be catching up.

The trees were much larger now, and Ylfronir saw that they really were above a river, not that he had any clue which river it could be. As they approached the ground, the eagle slowed, to deposit Celidel as gently as possible on the grass, before landing a few feet away. Ylfronir slid gratefully off, not trusting his legs to support him for the time being. Nathradril sprang to the ground too, and the bird instantly leapt into flight once more, shooting off into the night sky. They heard thumping wingbeats passing overhead as the Nazgul gave chase. Then all was still.

When he forced himself to stand up, Ylfronir saw that Nathradril was bending over Celidel, who still lay on the ground

'Is he…' he began, hesitantly,

'He's fainted,' she said, 'and I think his ankle might be broken.' She removed her cloak and spread it, slowly and deliberately, over the elf's prostrate form. Then she rose, and turned to face Ylfronir.

'I think an explanation is in order.'

'I…' He didn't know where to start. But then he remembered something, 'You should be in bed!' he exclaimed.

'I _what_?'

He hurried over to her and grabbed her arm

'You're ill, Nathradril, you…'

'…should be in bed,' she finished, starting to laugh

'It's not funny!' said Ylfronir, hearing his voice become more high pitched as he protested. He found himself involuntarily beginning to laugh as well. Nathradril was suddenly leaning on his arm more heavily, and he lowered them both to the ground, as their laughter became more hysterical.

'I didn't mean for you to find out I'd gone!' Ylfronir managed to choke out

'Well you shouldn't have stolen a horse from the royal stable!' gasped Nathradril, 'I suppose….on balance…that was a bit of a mistake…' he admitted, trying to regain some modicum of self control. For a moment they just sat there, teetering on the edge between laughter and tears.

'But an _eagle_?' he asked, as his brain began to kick in again

'Are you complaining?' she smiled, but her face was pale,

'No! But _how_?'

'When I realised you'd gone, I was pretty sure I knew where,' said Nathradril, serious now, 'And I knew that you were extremely likely to get into some serious trouble. I thought that to have any chance of finding you I'd need an…ariel perspective. And _I_ still have some friends in Lothlorien,'

'Are you suggesting I don't?' asked Ylfronir, in mock surprise. She smiled again, but exhaustion was clearly written on her face now.

'As luck would have it,' continued Nathradril, 'I heard this morning that an eagle had delivered a message to the Lady Galadriel. So I slipped out of the sanatorium…'

'…just like that, eh?'

'Like I said, _I_ actually have some _friends_ in the Golden Wood,'

'Point taken…

'And I begged Malwyr…'

'…the eagle…?'

'…right. I begged him to help me. And, lucky for you, he was willing.'

She looked up to the stars, her face grave,

'I hope he makes it…'

'An eagle like him can out fly a Nazgul any day of the week,' Ylfronir tried to reassure her, 'especially now he's not weighed down by 3 elves.'

'I suppose you're right,' she said.

They sat for a moment in silence. Then Ylfronir noticed that Nathradril was shivering,

'Here, take my cloak,' he said, giving her the torn garment, 'such as it is,'

'You should have nicked a new one from Lothlorien,' she grinned, but took it gratefully.

'I suppose we had better set up camp for the night,' said Ylfronir, 'I think there's a river nearby, let's head for that. I could certainly do with cleaning up a bit…'

Willing his aching muscles to give him just a while longer before they gave up in protest, Ylfronir managed to hoist Celidel off the ground.

'I could take his legs,' suggested Nathradril,

'No,' said Ylfronir, panting with the effort, 'the broken ankle, remember, I don't hate him _that_ much…'

He staggered off in the direction of the river, Nathradril following. After a moment she said, thoughtfully,

'That's Celidel, from Loth Lorien, right?'

'…right….'

'Why do you hate him? For that matter, why is he here? And hang on a minute,' her tone suddenly became exasperated, 'I _still_ haven't had an explanation of what the _hell_ happened to you both!'

'It's…um…a long story…'

'We've got all night.'

'OK…But can we at least get a fire started first, I'm bloody freezing…'

………………

Druluk stared in awe at the scene before his eyes.

'It's…beautiful…' he said, turning to Thrrl, who stood beside him on the stone bridge overlooking the dark waters of the underground river.

'Not the word I'd use,' she said, morosely.

Druluk couldn't take his eyes off the orc fleet. A row of boats, stretching right the way along one bank until a bend in the river meant he could see no more, each vessel bearing a firey fringe of lanterns around its hull. It _was_ beautiful. But from their vantage point, Druluk could see orc companies boarding the ships and taking up positions at the banks of oars. And however much he tried to block thoughts of the past from entering his mind, he couldn't help but be reminded of the time he had stood similarly in Isengard, staring down at the bustling activity of Saruman's underlings. Just before Ylfronir had fetched him to take him to that fateful meeting. Ylfronir. At the memory, a wave of anger washed over him, and he suddenly snapped

'Why did you wait until we were on the move?'

'I'm sorry?' said Thrrl, not understanding

'You could have told me about my friends before we started marching, when we were still near the heart of the Collective. Then I could have gone to search for them.'

'I didn't think…'

'…you didn't think? Or you _thought_ that you'd quite like to have me on this little suicide mission…'

'…You flatter yourself!'

'No, I don't think so. As far as I can see, you don't have any friends in this whole damn Collective. Not one out of 50 thousand, that's pretty poor going…'

'…I _never_ asked you to come with me. And…' her voice cracked, 'I'm sorry about your friends…But I truly believe that it wouldn't have made a difference. They _are_ gone.'

'So why did you tell me about the water at all?' asked Druluk, suddenly overcome with sadness rather than anger,

'It was…weighing on my conscience…' She sighed heavily , and continued 'like a lot of things.'

'Like the fact that you allowed their execution?' He couldn't help but say it harshly. Even now, every time he looked at her, part of him wanted to meet out revenge on Ylfronir and Nathradril's behalf.

'Yes,' said Thrrl, so quietly he almost didn't hear. 'Yes.'

…………………..

Ylfronir was glad of the fire, not just because he was cold and exhausted, but because he was desperately worried about Nathradril. The words of the healer in Lothlorien kept running around his mind. Not for the first time, he cursed his own idiocy in leaving Lothlorien in the first place. He should have known that no good could possibly come of it.

They laid Celidel as close to the fire as they could, and now Ylfronir began to try and bandage up his ankle, using strips which he cut from Celidel's own cloak, and improvising a splint out of some fallen branches. Nathradril observed him, warming her hands in the glow of the fire.

'So?' she said, 'you keep putting off telling me. Shall I begin for you? You went to the stable and you…'

'…stole a horse. Yes. And then…'

'…Nathradril?' an incredulous voice suddenly called out of the darkness

Ylfronir tensed, his hand already on the hilt of his knife

'Who's there?' he shouted, but Nathradril held up a hand to silence him

'It couldn't be…' she whispered to herself. Ylfronir looked around in incomprehension…and suddenly became aware of two figures approaching them. He sprang to his feet, saying

'Get your bow ready,' but Nathradril had risen too, and she stepped in front of him, holding her arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome

'Legolas!'

'Legolas?' exclaimed Ylfronir in disbelief, 'Legolas! What the…'

But at that moment, the newcomers drew near enough to the fire for Ylfronir to see that one of them was indeed the prince of Mirkwood. The other appeared to be the dwarf whom Ylfronir had seen with Legolas, Aragorn and Mithrandir all those days ago in Fanforn forest.

'Nathradril!' Legolas looked as surprised as Ylfronir felt, 'what in the world brings you here? And…' he stared at Ylfronir, 'it's…Ylfronir…isn't it?'

'Yes…' spluttered Ylfronir, confused, he had not expected the prince to know his name,

'Ylfronir…' said Legolas thoughtfully, 'I haven't seen you in Mirkwood since…'

'…since Gollum escaped,' interrupted Ylfronir, 'yes, well, I…'

But Legolas had suddenly caught sight of Celidel's prone form

'What has happened here?' he exclaimed, 'Who…?'

'This is Celidel, from Loth Lorien,' explained Nathradril. 'He's wounded,' she added, unnecessarily.

'What happened?' asked Legolas, kneeling down beside the unconscious elf. Nathradril snorted, 'I've been trying to get Ylfronir to tell _me_ that! All I know is that the pair of them were in the clutches of a Nazgul and…'

'Nazgul!' cried the dwarf, speaking for the first time, 'where?'

'Oh, it's gone now,' said Nathradril, 'I'm sorry, have we…?'

'Oh,' said Legolas, 'my apologies, this is my friend Gimli, son of Gloin,'

'Pleased to meet you,' said Nathradril, inclining her head,

'Likewise,' said Gimli, bowing, 'any friend of Legolas…'

Ylfronir sent Nathradril a venomous look, which she ignored completely

'…is a friend of mine,' finished the dwarf.

'Come,' said Legolas, standing again, 'you must come with us,'

'Where?' asked Ylfronir

'You have bound his leg well, but there is one nearby who has greater skill at healing than any on Middle Earth.'

Ylfronir tried to think who Legolas could be referring to 'not…Aragorn?' he guessed,

'The very same.' Legolas crouched down beside Celidel once more, to lift him, whilst Nathradril quickly kicked soil over the fire to extinguish it.

'But…' began Ylfronir, hopelessly, 'but…'

He suddenly became aware of how heavily Nathradril was breathing, even after the small exertion of putting out the fire. He stepped to her side and gently took her arm. Being in the company of the greatest healer on Middle Earth would be no bad thing right now.

'Alright,' he said, 'where's your camp?'

'Oh,' grinned Legolas in the moonlight, 'it's not a _camp_ exactly…'

………………

Druluk eyed the arrays of oars unenthusiastically as his company neared the boats.

'I've never done anything like this before…'

'It's not that complicated,' said Thrrl, 'you'll get the hang of it…'

'In truth, I've never actually been on a _boat_ before…'

'And do you think that many of these others have either?' she asked, gesturing with an outstretched hand. 'We're all in this together…Well…in the boats together anyway…'

'Excuse me?'

'I won't actually be rowing…'

'Oh _really_…?'

'I am still, technically, a member of the council...'

'Oh right! So you'll sit in comfort with Glonya while the rest of us slog it out on the benches? Nice…'

'Glonya isn't coming!'

'What?'

'Oh no, she's happy enough to forge alliances with war-hungry despots, and send members of the Collective to fight their battles for them, but you won't catch her risking so much as a hair on her head…Her nor any other member of the Council actually. Well…' her voice dripped sarcasm, 'We need them safe and sound to keep running our lives for us, don't we? I mean…'

'…So who's leading the army?' interrupted Druluk

'Leading? No one. We all know where we're going.'

'I don't understand…'

'We're _going_ to _Mordor_,' she said, giving him a funny look

'Yes,' said Druluk, irritated, 'but if no one is in charge, then who's to say we don't just head off somewhere else?'

'The Collective has made a decision,' she said, staring at him in incomprehension.

'Yes, but…'

'We are all part of the Collective, Druluk, we act as one,'

'One idiot,' muttered Druluk under his breath. If Thrrl heard she did not let it show.

………………

'A _boat_?' said Ylfronir incredulously, 'a boat? And…' he looked more closely, '…an Umbar boat at that?'

'Correct,' said Legolas, 'we captured the whole fleet yesterday.'

'You and…?'

'…if I told you, you wouldn't believe me... Aragorn!' he shouted suddenly, 'Aragorn, are you there?'

A man's voice replied

'Legolas! Back so soon? Did you find anything worth eating or is it going to be Lembas bread again tonight?'

There was movement on deck, and then Ylfronir instantly recognised the heir of Isildur leaning over the boat's rail,

'You've brought company!'

'Aragorn, this is…' began the elf prince

'…save the introductions,' smiled Aragorn, 'I'll let down the gang plank.'

A mere 5 minutes later they were sitting below deck on the captured ship, enjoying the warmth cast by a metal stove. Celidel had been made as comfortable as possible on a pile of blankets, and Aragorn was examining him.

'The ankle should mend quickly,' he said, 'it's a clean break. And the rest looks painful but pretty superficial.'

He pointed to the bruising which was just starting to show around Celidel's neck.

'I take it he was held prisoner?'

'Yes,' said Ylfronir. 'We were both…orc prisoners…Then the Nazgul came…'

His voice trailed off. For a moment no one spoke, then

'Did the orcs beat you?' Nathradril asked him

'How do you mean?'

'Only that…and please don't take this the wrong way…your face looks like you were trampled by a stampede of wargs…'

'Actually,' said Ylfronir slowly, 'actually _that_ was Celidel.'

Everyone stared at him. Ylfronir sighed.

'Maybe I should begin at the _very_ beginning….' he said

* * *

Aislynn – thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you like the story, and I can reveal that Ylfronir and Druluk will meet again…but not under the most pleasant of circumstances I'm afraid…

Azla – here, at last, are Aragorn and Legolas, I hope you like it!


	14. Conflicts of interest

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

Ylfronir leant on the ship's rail, relishing the breeze playing on his skin. Nathradril and Legolas were sitting by the mast, whittling arrows by the dawn light. They were deep in conversation about the adventures leading up to their current situation. He couldn't help hearing the odd sentence…

'So the Corsairs fled! That must have been some rout…'

'…Yes, the Army of the Dead was quite a sight to behold...'

'…And you took the ships?'

'…Yes, Aragorn set each under the command of a Dunedain captain. Oh, and Elrohir and Elladan…

'…Elrond's sons! Are they here?'

'Yes, they joined us with the Dunedain...'

'…and was that before or after the Battle at Helm's Deep?'

'After, they…'…

…Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, guiltily, to find himself face to face with Aragorn

'I…uh…' he stuttered,

'Calm down, Ylfronir,' he said, 'you are among friends here…' though when he met his gaze, Ylfronir thought he saw a hint of a question. Aragorn continued,

'Celidel's woken up.'

'Yes? How is he?'

'He's doing well…But…he…said some things about you...'

'…that I was in league with the orcs? I did explain last night how…'

'How it all happened. Of course. And I do believe you. But I did wonder…'

'…yes?'

'You do realise where we are going?'

'Where we are going…'

'We are going to defend Minastirith from Sauron's hordes.'

'Yes, well, I…'

'And at a time like this, I cannot afford to suffer those who haven't decided what side they are on.'

'Now hang on a minute!'

'I have one purpose, Ylfronir. The defence of the White City. I can spare no energy for anything else. No energy to protect you,'

'I don't need protection!'

'Either you fight for yourself or someone will need to protect you. There is no alternative here.'

'I can and I will fight!'

'You will kill orcs? From your story last night, it seemed as though…'

'Druluk betrayed me. Jorrig took me prisoner. And _then_ handed me over to a _Nazgul_…I _think_ I can muster up a bit of ill feeling towards orcs now.

'No doubt, but Druluk saved your life once. What would happen if you were to face him on the battlefield?'

'That's not going to happen.'

'But if it did?'

Ylfronir looked the Ranger in the eye.

'Truthfully?' he said

Aragorn stared back levelly, saying

'What else?'

'Truthfully, I have no idea what I'd do if I met him. But he is one orc out of hundreds of thousands. And,' he said, 'I do wish to fight for Middle Earth.'

Aragorn held his gaze for a moment longer, then clasped his arm, declaring, 

'And I need all the help I can get.'

He moved to the edge of the boat himself, leant on the rail and stared down into the water,

'Forgive my lack of trust, it is the product of too many losses; too many broken dreams and there being no end to this trial in sight.'

Ylfronir stared hopelessly at his bowed shoulders. Perhaps now was not the time to inquire his opinion on Nathradril's health. He tried desperately to think of something else to say, but the only other topic of conversation which came to mind – asking the heir to the throne of Gondor whether he would consider abdicating in favour of an elected representative of the people – seemed even less appropriate.

'Sorry about Gollum…' he blurted out suddenly

'Excuse me?'

'Letting him, um, escape. That was me…' Ylfronir ploughed on, aware suddenly that Nathradril and Legolas had stopped talking and were listening to them

'I was supposed to guard him, and…'

'Now, Ylfronir,' cut in Legolas, 'you were attacked by orcs, you can hardly blame yourself…'

'That's what I keep telling him,' said Nathradril to Legolas, shrugging. Ylfronir glowered to himself. But Aragorn was staring at the horizon

'Gollum is the least of our concerns right now,' he said.

……………………..

It was impossible to tell day from night in the eternal darkness as the orc ships glided along. Lulled into a stupor by the creaking of the oars, the ceaseless rhythm of the drumbeat keeping them synchronised, and sheer blinding exhaustion, Druluk had no sense of time. He lived from stroke to stroke, existing in the moments between pulling on the oars, those brief seconds when his arms didn't feel as though they were being pulled out of their sockets. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he was moving the oar or he was merely attached to it, and the oar was moving him.

'Halt!' came the hoarsely shouted order. It took several more oarstrokes for him to actually make himself stop, then he basked in the sweet relief of it ending for maybe a full minute before he remembered.

'Are we there?' he asked, 'Have we reached Mordor?

……………………..

Ylfronir tested the weight of the borrowed sword in his hand.

'It's fine,' he said, 'thanks.'

'Just…use it well,' said Aragorn. 'We'll have to see if anyone can lend you a bow.' He turned away, to address Celidel, who was sitting on the deck nearby

'I'm afraid that you will have to remain on board the ship. Under ideal circumstances I would leave a skeleton crew aboard, but I'm afraid that it might have to be just a couple of men to guard you…'

'…I need no guard!' exclaimed Celidel, indignantly

'Celidel,' said Aragorn patiently, 'you can't walk. You can't even stand up…'

'I can fire a bow as well as anyone on this ship! And are you saying you have to be tall to defend yourself?'

'Stubborn, isn't he, muttered Ylfronir. Aragorn merely raised his eyebrows.

'I'm not saying…' he began, slowly

'Was someone suggesting that a smaller size meant less prowess in battle?' Gimli appeared as if from nowhere, a mischievous smile on his face

'It seems that way,' said Celidel, in aggrieved tones

'Aragorn! I'm surprised at you,' said Gimli, pretending to be deeply insulted, 'And after everything we've been through!'

'That _wasn't_ what I was saying!' Aragorn finally snapped, 'I was merely suggesting that Celidel should have a guard if…'

Gimli began to laugh,

'I'm joking, Aragorn! Lighten up!'

The ranger glared at him, and then at Celidel. He took a deep breath, then sighed.

'Do you honestly think you can defend yourself adequately?'

Ylfronir stared at Aragorn in surprise. He had expected him to force Celidel to have someone to protect him – after all, there wasn't much Celidel could do about it.

'I don't like leaving you here,' Aragorn continued, 'but we do need all the men we have. If we lose this battle then…'

His voice trailed off into silence. Ylfronir felt a cold numbness starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. He had known how important this venture was, of course. But somehow he had not quite _realised_ it before. He looked at the sword he held in his hand with new eyes. _If we lose this battle, all is lost_, he said to himself. He tried to picture what it would be like to thrust the sword into an orc's throat…

'…I see Minastirith!' came a cry from the lookout, 'I can see the white city!'

'If we lose this battle, all is lost,' repeated Ylfronir to himself, overcome by a sense of doom.


	15. Battles of the Mind

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

They had marched through the tunnels of Sauron's underground realm for hours, in a heat which had grown steadily until it was almost unbearable. Their weary feet were constantly tripping on the uneven floor, but still they kept up the relentless pace. Druluk had no energy left to speak. Instead he simply caught Thrrl's eye. She looked back, eyes grim, mouth set. But he could read neither regret nor fear in her expression.

Was this it then? Her fate and his? To be one of thousands of subordinates, to relinquish his very sense of self to the massing power? He had thought he wanted to be led. He had thought that the groaning uncertainty of making his own decisions was too much to bear, that nothing was worth the crippling culpability of being accountable to himself. Far better to let it all go. But now, as he went through the motions, he couldn't numb his mind.

'Faster!' came a harshly shouted order, 'faster,' and Druluk was aware of those around him picking up the pace. Despite the exhaustion he was feeling, he was forced to march more quickly.

'Who the hell….' he panted, not really directing the question at anyone, 'is giving these orders?'

'Don't know,' replied Thrrl, shortly

'But we…obey…just like that?'

She merely grunted an affirmitave. Druluk elbowed his way to the edge of the marching column, and stood to one side, watching the orcs hurrying past – heads down, focussing on keeping the pace. He noticed several limping, but no one was helping them. No one was sparing him a second glance either.

And he could not help but feel disgusted at their apathy. At the way they were merely cogs in this great war machine. And he was disgusted at himself.

………………

Ylfronir fingered the hilt of his sword, feeling sick. Up ahead he could see the shore where they were going to land, and beyond that the plain where the battle for Minastirith was already under way. The screams; the clash of metal on metal; the great thuds as chunks of masonry fell from the city walls - launched by catapults within or dislodged by siege engines without - the plumes of smoke rising from where burning missiles had fallen; the lumbering form of an oliphaunt scything through troops with its tusks…all this he saw and heard, but with senses muted by his own dread. He barely noticed when Legolas laid a hand upon his shoulder.

'What are you thinking of, Ylfronir?' he asked, softly

Ylfronir swallowed, and turned his gaze from the battlefield. But he couldn't help but see it still, even as he looked into the other elf's face.

'Mirkwood,' he said, the first thing that had come into his mind. The prince smiled,

'Aah, Mirkwood,' he said, 'I miss it too. But we shall return there some day.'

Ylfronir did not reply. There was a sudden scraping jolt as the boat ran aground. On either side, men started clambering over the rail to splash knee deep in the river water and scramble ashore. Legolas vaulted nimbly over the barrier then stood in the river for a moment, looking back up at him

'Coming, Ylfronir?' asked a female voice. He turned to see Nathradril, smiling questioningly, her bow slung over her shoulder along with a quiver bulging with arrows. She had plaited her hair into a tight braid and pinned it into a circlet round her head. It looked almost like a crown.

He felt strangely like weeping as he saw how the pale daylight made her skin seem nearly translucent, how the determination in her eyes juxtaposed her almost ethereal appearance. He stared at her hopelessly, wanting more than anything to undo all he had done in the past days, in the past year, that had brought it all to this.

'Are you?' she asked again, softly, taking a step towards him.

He took a sharp breath in and nodded his head. He waited until she had turned away before letting himself breathe again, not trusting his own voice. Then, without stopping to let himself think, he swung himself over the ship's rail and ran towards the fray, water splashing everywhere.

……………….

'I still think this is a huge mistake,' complained Thrrl, trudging along the path behind him.

'You said that already,' grunted Druluk, short of breath after the long ascent.

It was the day after they had arrived in Mordor. The regiment from Moria had slept, exhausted, in a roastingly hot cavern the night before. Upon awaking, the pair of them had slipped out unnoticed. They had been roaming through the mountains bordering Mordor all day. A pair of orcs wandering around looking vaguely purposeful, they had not met with any suspicion yet.

'I still don't understand what you think this will achieve,' said Thrrl, stopping to adjust the strap on her boot.

'I told you,' said Druluk, glad of the excuse to sit down on a nearby rock, 'I'm not trying to _achieve_ anything. I just wanted to see where we'd ended up. To have a bit of a look round.'

Thrrl looked sceptical. Druluk continued

'Look, it's not like anyone ordered us to _do_ anything.'

'We didn't really hang around to find out if they would, did we?'

'You didn't have to come.'

'I'm beginning to wish I hadn't. I already had blisters from the march here…'

Druluk stood up, and surveyed the surroundings.

'Let's just go and see what's happening at that tower,' he pointed up to where a jagged black silhouette interrupted the skyline.

'But there'll be people there! We'll get caught!'

'No, we'll get asked what we're doing, and we'll say we got lost. And then we'll ask them if they have any food.' He turned to look at her directly, 'I mean, we _are_ all on the same side.'

'Not if we're dissidents,' mutered Thrrl

'Are we?' asked Druluk. 'Do you want to be?'

She didn't answer, but started walking up the path again. Smiling grimly to himself, Druluk followed.

As they came close to the tower they heard a sudden scream. Thrrl froze, and stared at him questioningly. Druluk gestured for her to stay still. He took a few more steps towards the tower, and squinted at the wall facing them

'I can see a door,' he whispered

'So what?' hissed Thrrl, through clenched jaws, 'we're _not_ going in there! Didn't you hear…?'

'A fellow orc in trouble?'

She exhaled loudly through her teeth,

'I'm going in,' said Druluk, drawing the sword Thrrl had lent him

'Have you gone completely insane?'

'No. At least, I don't think so. I realised something back in the caves last night…'

'Oh,' said Thrrl, her voice heavy with sarcasm, 'oh you _realised_ something! I'm so pleased for you! Care to share it with me?'

'Later. When we've found out what's happening here…'

'…I can hardly wait,' muttered Thrrl.

Druluk headed towards the tower door, sword in hand, Thrrl trailing reluctantly behind. He wasn't altogether sure what was driving his curiosity, but he needed a short term purpose, and this was as good as any.

They surveyed the wooden door

'You don't have to come,' said Druluk, a little belatedly

'I know,' sighed Thrrl, 'but there's not much else to do now, is there?'

Druluk grinned at her, then took a step back and hurled himself bodily against the wooden barrier…which opened inwards suddenly. He fell to the ground, and felt a boot press into his shoulder

'What the?' came the surprised voice of the orc who had opened the door, quickly stepping backwards.

Druluk dragged himself up onto his hands and knees, groaning

'Hi,' said Thrrl, 'we were just…'

'No time!' cried the other orc, 'run for your lives! There's an elf warrior…'

'Elf?' interrupted Thrrl, 'where?'

'Where do you think?' exclaimed the orc, climbing over Druluk and pushing past Thrrl. Druluk managed to pull himself to his feet in time to see the orc's retreating figure disappear around the outside corner of the tower wall.

'Elf?' he said, slightly dazed, 'in the tower?'

'Perhaps we should…' she started,

'Oh, I'm seeing this elf!' said Druluk, stumbling into the passage before Thrrl had a chance to respond. He steadied himself against the wall, then broke into a run, heading for the clamour of raised voices which seemed to be coming from above.

……………

The battle was a storm at sea, a hurricane tearing through a forest, a landslide ploughing its way down a mountain… Ylfronir clung to his sword as though it were the single immovable object in the swirling chaos. They had charged forwards from the boats at an insane pace, straight into the thick of the fighting. He had lost sight of Nathradril, Legolas and Aragorn, but he was still with a group of Dunedain warriors…

'Look out!' one of them yelled suddenly. He spun round, to see an orc leaping towards him, a jagged edged blade weaving through the air. He lashed out wildly with his own sword, slashing into the orc's belly before he had even thought where he was aiming. There was an anguished scream, and the orc collapsed.

Warm, dark liquid bubbled onto his feet. Fighting the urge to vomit, Ylfronir stepped away, but as he did so he saw the orc's body twitch slightly. A grasping hand clutched at the turf, and the fingernails dug into the ground. Agony was written into every line of the posture. Shuddering, Ylfronir took a deep breath, and reached down to roll the orc onto his back. The eyes were sqeezed tightly shut, the jaw clenched, the cheeks smeared with blood and sweat. But the orc was still breathing: shallow, agonising breaths. Ylfronir knew what he had to do. A single slash across the throat. A fountain of blood spurted into his own face. Half blinded, Ylfronir stumbled away, gasping for air. His hands, his legs, his whole body was shaking. But he was still holding the sword.

………

As Druluk pounded up the spiral stone staircase, another orc shoved past him on the way down, nearly overbalancing him.

'Is the…?' he began, but the other orc was gone. The terror in his face had been apparent. Druluk began to wonder whether this was a good idea. But he had come this far. He took the last few stairs at a slower pace, and peered cautiously through the archway at the top.

He found himself looking into a stone flagged room, with numerous slit like windows. It was lit by a couple of sputtering torches fixed to the walls by brackets. On the floor lay the bodies of several orcs, blood pooling round them. He looked away quickly. But as he did so, he saw a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Could one of them still be alive? He forced himself to look again. No, they were most definitely dead. But...

'What the…'

In the ceiling of the room, accessed by a long ladder reaching to the floor, was a trapdoor. A trapdoor which had just opened, apparently by itself. Druluk took a step forward, craning his neck to see if someone had opened it from above. But there was no one there. Shivering slightly, he looked around the room again, in time to see Thrrl stick her head cautiously around the edge of the doorway

'Is there anyone left?' she hissed

'I don't…'

'Any sign of this elf warrior?'

'Um…'

'What's up there?'

'I don't…'

But she had already started climbing the ladder. Druluk hovered at the bottom nervously, willing her not to make a sound.

She climbed until she could peer into the room above, then stood stock still, staring, for several minutes. Druluk was forced to simply watch, in an agony of anticipation, trying to guess what she could possibly be seeing. His gaze bored into her back. Then, when it seemed as though he would explode with the effort of not rushing forward, she began to make her way back down. She took each rung slowly, deliberately, then tiptoed back across the floor towards him, her finger on her lips.

'Wha…' he whispered, but she glared him into silence, and beckoned for him to follow her out of the room. As soon as they were out of the doorway she pulled him to one side,

'What the hell was happening up there?' he hissed

'Druluk…they've got… _the ring_…' she said, her voice trembling

'Huh…who?'

'A pair of Halflings…'

'…Half what?...'

'The _ring_, Druluk! The _one ring_…'

'…to rule them all, yes, I have heard the story…Again, what are Halflings…?'

'...Druluk, it's up there…' she breathed, squeezing his arm, 'just think…'

'…oh no. Oh no. We're _not_ taking it.'

'Druluk! They're clearly prisoners, it certainly doesn't belong to them…'

'…last I heard it _belonged_ to Sauron…'

'Druluk, we can use this! You were saying only yesterday how stupid it is for us to keep taking other people's orders. With this kind of power we can write the rules ourselves, we can make a new Orc Republic, we can…'

'It's a piece of metal, Thrrl,' said Druluk, quietly. 'That's all.'

'Are you sure we're talking about the same One Ring?'

'Yes. Just a piece of metal…'

'…you're mad!'

'Maybe. But I won't take orders from someone just because they're wearing some fancy jewellery.'

'You wouldn't have a choice!' she exclaimed, then seemed to hesitate, as she heard her own words. Druluk said nothing.

'I _know_ it's more than a piece of metal,' she repeated.

'Maybe,' said Druluk.

………….

Ylfronir swung the sword as if in a trance. It was now a matter of survival. He had no energy left to think beyond the next parry, the next swerve to one side to avoid a blow, the next leap backwards out of the way of a missile. No time to think about who the blood dripping off the sword belonged to, no time to consider his own blood seeping through his sleeve.

He caught fleeting glances of his companions in the fray – Aragorn grim faced, standing firm against the onslaught; Legolas darting here and there, keeping up a constant stream of arrows; Gimli swinging his battle axe. And Nathradril, her sword reflecting what sickly sunlight there was as it wove a deadly pattern through the air. He noticed that her hair had come undone and was whipping around her face as she spun to thrust the blade into an unsuspecting orc to her right. He turned round himself, looking out for anyone about to attack him, then glanced back over. But she was gone.

His heart suddenly leaden with fear, he ran towards the place she had been…only to see her lying sprawled on the muddy ground.

* * *

Thanks for the review Azla! And Druluk and Ylfronir will meet again, in a couple of chapters, I promise...

Also, I think this chapter got a bit violent, do you reckon it's still OK for a PG rating? I'm never sure about these things...


	16. Waiting for the Great Leap Forward

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

'Right,' said Thrrl. They were sitting on the stairs in the tower. They had stayed hidden in the shadows as the two Halflings, disguised in orc armour, slipped past them and out into the night. 'I let you have your way.'

'You did,' agreed Druluk,

'So will you please now reveal whatever the hell it is you've got planned?'

'I…'

'You do have a plan?'

'A plan…?'

'_Druluk_!'

'Look, only yesterday you were acting like all this was completely out of our hands. The Collective made a decision, remember? It's not up to us to _plan_…'

'Don't give me that! The Collective didn't tell us to sneak out of those caves…'

'True…'

'Druluk, please. Give me something…'

'What is it that you want to hear?'

'I…'

'You want to run away? Just the two of us?'

'No…'

'You want to fight in this war?'

'No…'

'I don't see any alternatives…'

'I don't want my sisters to die, Druluk.'

'Neither of us wants that.'

They both sat in silence for a moment, Druluk staring at his feet and Thrrl staring at the ceiling.

'You led a rebellion,' said Thrrl, out of the blue, 'Against Saruman. You formed an Orc Republic.'

'So?'

'So do that again.'

'This isn't Isengard, Thrrl.'

'I know,' she said. 'But what have we to lose by trying?'

Druluk could think of no reply.

………………

Ylfronir sat, leaning against a stone wall, outside the Houses of Healing in Minastirith. He stared with unseeing eyes somewhere in the middle distance. Somewhere inside the building, Aragorn was no doubt tending to Nathradril, along with the other wounded.

_The hands of a king are the hands of a healer_, he thought, and laughed humourlessly to himself at the irony of it. But nothing seemed to matter any more. He was numb. He had felt nothing as he ran towards her, back on the battlefield. He had felt nothing as he stood over her body, fighting off any orcs which approached with a ferocity he had not known himself capable of. But now…now he was beginning to feel something. The edges of the deepest depression he had ever felt.

He became vaguely aware of someone crouching down beside him.

'Ylfronir?'

It was Aragorn.

'Ylfronir, are you alright?'

For a moment, he could not speak a word. Then,

'So much destruction,' he said, his mouth dry, 'so much loss, so many wasted lives…'

'Wasted? A life given for the sake of a cause such as ours is not _wasted_, Ylfronir,'

'A life needlessly lost is a life wasted, whether given freely or not.'

'True,' Aragorn paused, then continued 'but lives lost today were not lost needlessly.'

'You believe that?'

'You think I could carry on if I didn't?'

The future king sat down to lean against the wall as well.

'Nathradril will be alright,' he said, simply. Ylfronir opened his mouth, but found himself speechless for the second time. He closed his mouth again, and swallowed, resisting the tears which sprang into the corners of his eyes,

'The wound was not serious, but she had been poisoned...'

'…by orcs, in Moria,' Ylfronir blurted out, 'she should never have left Lothlorien, this is all my fault…'

'…but her will to live is incredibly strong,' continued Aragorn, as though Ylfronir had not spoken. 'She will be fine…. _Incredibly strong_,' he repeated softly, thoughtfully, even remorsefully, to himself. But Ylfronir was not interested in interpreting such subtleties,

'Can I see her?' he asked. Aragorn smiled a tired smile,

'Of course. But she's sleeping…'

'…I won't wake her,' he said, getting to his feet, 'I just…'

'…I know. Go.'

………………..

'Excuse me!' shouted Thrrl, her voice cracking with the strain, 'Um, can I have _everyone's attention_?'

'It's no good,' muttered Druluk, 'no one's listening,'

'EXCUSE ME!' she shouted again, ignoring him, 'I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY TO YOU ALL!'

Druluk looked around at the crowds of orcs. They had come across this communal canteen area by chance as they made their way back towards where they had left the other Collective Orcs. A few ramshackle stone buildings, probably an old farm of some kind, nestling on the lower slopes of the mountain, had been used to house some big cooking fires, where some dubious looking meat was now in the process of being roasted. It must have been a major food station, since several hundred orcs were milling around, some waiting for food, others gobbling their share down hastily.

'HEY!' yelled Thrrl, not giving up, 'I'M TALKING TO YOU! YES, ALL OF YOU!'

A few faces turned in their direction. Encouraged, Thrrl continued,

'MY FELLOW ORCS, MY ALLIES, MY FRIENDS, PLEASE HEAR ME OUT!'

'Make it snappy,' hissed Druluk, eyeing the crowd, 'they're not in the mood for speeches.'

'I SHALL BE BRIEF,'

'You don't need to shout, I'm right here…oh…'

'…WHAT IS IT THAT YOU MOST DESIRE?'

Most of the crowd seemed to be paying attention now, so Thrrl lowered her voice, which was now hoarse from the shouting,

'Well?' she asked, '_does_ anyone want anything?'

'How about some food?' came a shout from the back. Druluk grinned, but Thrrl simply glared,

'Does anyone want _freedom_?' she asked, accusing eyes flicking round at the assembled throng. General foot shuffling ensued.

'_No one_?' she said, appalled, 'does freedom mean _nothing_ to you?'

'Um,' whispered Druluk, 'this might not be _quite_ how to persuade people…'

'Don't you want the chance to make decisions for yourselves?' she went on, ignoring him.

'Um, you should probably explain what you're asking them…' muttered Druluk, placing a restraining hand on her elbow. She shook him off,

'What are you all doing here?' she asked, flinging her arms wide, 'what are you working towards?'

No one said anything.

'I'll tell you what you're working towards. Fulfilling Sauron's greed. That's all. He's using you. You won't get anything out of this war…'

'We will have Middle Earth!' shouted someone in the crowd

'_No_! He will! And _you_ will be enslaved, just as you are now…'

'We aren't slaves…'

'Oh!' she cried, mockingly, 'Oh, are you not? Are you not bound to obey Sauron's every command? Are you not expected to labour for nothing? Are you not expected to lay down your _lives_ if that's what he calls for?'

She laughed, slightly hysterically. Druluk tried to grab her arm again, but she pushed him away, and walked towards the cooking fires. One of the walls of the ruined farm building had collapsed into a pile of rubble, which she scrambled up, to better observe the whole crowd. They themselves watched her cautiously, several of them looking more thoughtful than before, but most just looking confused.

'I used to think like you,' she declared, nodding her head to add emphasis, 'I really did. But now I see the truth.'

Druluk stared at her. She directed the next words straight at him, her eyes shining with reflected firelight

'The truth is that we are the ones with the power here. We are the majority here. And if we want to use that power, we…'

Her voice broke off suddenly, as she looked straight up into the sky. Druluk craned his neck, confused, to see what had startled her. And he saw a dark shape, just about visible against the night sky, getting bigger and bigger and…

…the Nazgul dived. For a moment, the crowd stood, stunned, then

'Thrrl!' Druluk choked, dashing forward, as the great winged beast swooped upwards once again.

She was still standing on top of the pile of stones, but as he watched, she swayed on her feet. As he reached the foot of the pile of rubble she dropped to her knees. And as he scrambled to her side she almost collapsed onto her face, but he grabbed her before she fell. He felt the blood leaking from the wound in her chest smother his fingers. He felt her struggling to breathe once, twice, three times…

'This isn't over,' said Druluk desperately, 'this can't be it…'

'It's…not…' she gasped, 'you've got to make them see…'

'Don't try to talk,'

'But…'

'I'll make them see, Thrrl, I will…'

Her breaths were even shallower now. He held onto her, as if he could somehow stop the life escaping. Another breath…another…A sudden shudder ran through her whole body…

…and then she was gone.

…………………..

'Did we win?' murmured Nathradril, looking blearily up at him

'Minastirith is safe,' replied Ylfronir, _for now. _Thewords hung in the air, unsaid.

She shifted uncomfortably against the pillows.

'Aragorn says you're going to be fine…' said Ylfronir, trying to lighten the mood.

'Well, of course I am!' she exclaimed, 'it was barely a scratch, I don't know why you're being so over dramatic…'

'…Over dramatic! You…' Ylfronir exploded, then bit back his words as he saw her grinning,

'Celidel's here,' he said, changing the subject, 'Aragorn sent a party to go and fetch him from the ships. He was pretty annoyed at having missed all the action.'

'Have you spoken to him, then?'

'Yes. I apologised for stealing the horse.'

'And?'

'And he said that I would never be welcome in Lothlorien again, that I had made a mockery of the Lady Galadriel's hospitality and that I brought disgrace upon all elves by my treacherous dealings with orcs.'

'Oh…'

'Don't worry. I think he's still embarrassed that he fainted when the Nazgul had hold of us.'

He went and sat on the edge of her bed, trying to formulate the words he wanted to say into sentences,

'Are Legolas and Gimli alright?' she asked suddenly

'Er…yes,' he replied shortly, still preoccupied,

'Ylfronir!' she reproached him, 'I don't know what's the matter with you! If it wasn't for Legolas...'

'…_Prince_ Legolas…'

'Ylfronir, it's not his fault he's royalty…'

'Have you forgotten everything we stand for? Or…' he stood up and strode over to the window, not wanting to look at her '…did you never stand for it in the first place?'

'What the hell do you mean by that?' she snapped, 'I care about democracy enough to actually do something about it, unlike some…'

A sudden flood of anger washed over him, and he exclaimed

'…oh don't make this about me! I know, Nathradril, I know about you and Legolas…'

'What? What do you _know_? Are you still angry about that time when we staged that blockade of the palace and I spoke to him for like a _second…_?'

'Don't play games, Nathradril. It was the night before I left. I…' he hesitated, 'I heard the pair of you talking, in…'

'…up in that old oak tree,' breathed Nathradril, realisation dawning, 'Ylfronir, it's _so_ not what you think…'

'…what was I supposed to think?' said Ylfronir, bitterly

'Ylfronir, it was an act! It was a plan…'

'…it…_what_?'

'…the plan was for me to seduce him and then…'

'…I can't believe I'm hearing this…'

'…we were going to blackmail him, and force him to…'

'…why didn't anyone tell me about this so called _plan_?'

'Because we knew you were too damn _principled_ to approve.' She paused for breath. Ylfronir turned towards her, raging,

'So?'

'So what?'

'So what happened? Did the _plan_ work? Did…'

'…_no_!'

'What happened then?'

'Nothing happened! You're not the only one with principles, it seems. And I wouldn't have gone through with it anyway, I realised that even as I was standing there…'

'I still can't believe this…' Ylfronir rubbed his forehead with one hand distractedly,

'You could ask him,' said Nathradril, grinning suddenly, 'I'd like to see that conversation…'

'You…' began Ylfronir, having to stifle a smile, 'you…'

'I'm sorry, Ylfronir,' she said, with perfect seriousness, 'I'm sorry that we kept the plan from you. That was wrong of us…And it was a foolish plan anyway…' her voice drifted off, as she looked at him anxiously. And he felt the last vestiges of his anger dissipate, with the sweet relief of knowing all his fears had been unfounded

'More than _foolish_,' he said, laughing, 'I'm surprised the whole campaign didn't fall apart after I left, if that was the sort of stuff you came up with,'

'Hey! What about my idea to get that ring off Mithrandir's body?'

'That would be Mithrandir who's walking about in Minastirith right now, would it?'

'Are you serious?'

'Never more so.'

Nathradril stared at him incredulously,

'I think you need to fill me in,' she said.

………………………

Druluk heaved Thrrl's body into his arms, and staggered down the pile of stones. As he reached the ground, one of the orcs from the crowd approached him cautiously

'Is she…?'

'What do you think?'

The other orc took a step backwards at the sight of his expression, but did not turn away,

'That was…'

'…terrifying? unbelievable? _Wrong_?' suggested Druluk, his voice higher pitched than normal,

'She didn't deserve that,'

'No,' agreed Druluk, 'she didn't.' His arm muscles were beginning to burn.

'What she was saying…'

'…she was trying to help you. She was trying to make you see that you don't have to put up with the way things are. She was…' he choked, as he fought not to let himself sob, 'she was trying to show you that this life you lead is barely a life at all…And you know what?' Druluk stared questioningly at the orc, demanding a response,

'What?'

'She made her point. She's made the _ultimate_ point. And if you can't see it now then you never will.'

Druluk shifted Thrrl slightly in his arms, and began to walk away. Scurrying steps behind him made him turn. It was the same orc,

'Where are you going?'

'To see what the rest of her people have to say about this.'

'Who?'

'The Orc Collective of Moria.'

'Where?'

'Back in the caves.'

'You'll never carry her alone…'

'…your opinion has been noted…'

'…let me help you,' said the orc, simply

'What?' Druluk could hardly believe his ears,

'I said…'

'…I heard what you said, but…why?'

'Because she didn't deserve to die like that.'

Druluk stared at the orc's earnest expression.

'OK,' he said, 'you can help me.' The orc took a step forward, and Druluk continued 'But be warned that I intend to carry on what she started.'

The other orc merely nodded, and Druluk smiled a bleak smile

'So,' he said, 'I'm Druluk, what's your name?'

'Tlox.'

'OK, Tlox.'  
He started to walk away slowly, beckoning Tlox to follow with a jerk of his head. 'This is…was…Thrrl,' he said, his voice subdued. 'And what she was trying to say was…'


	17. Battle is joined

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

'So this is it,' thought Ylfronir to himself, 'the last stand.'

He was feeling oddly calm, considering where they were going. He was certain that this would achieve nothing, but Aragorn had decided to lead what was left of the joint armies that had defended Minastirith towards Mordor, and who was he to argue? When he saw the regiments lining up outside the city, he had slung his bow over his shoulder and taken a step towards the door before he even asked himself why. This frightened him. But trying to think about the reality of what was going on was even more frightening, so following orders was a relief. Nathradril had not even questioned why he was going when he went to say goodbye. Bleak acceptance of the inevitable was written in her face, but she understood that he and the others still had to try.

………………

Druluk's ill fitting chainmail rattled as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to get comfortable. His fingers, clasping the handle of his sword, were freezing in the cold morning air, yet a bead of sweat trickled down his face. He forced himself to keep his gaze fixed on the horizon, not to keep looking behind him at the Black Gate, not to think about whether Tlox would succeed…Not to think about the plan at all, in fact. Just to keep his eyes open for the approach of Gondor's army.

……………………..

Ylfronir shuddered involuntarily as he gazed at the devastated landscape. It had been getting steadily worse as they approached Mordor, but now, as they lined up opposite the Black Gate, the jagged, lifeless, rocks reminded him sharply of how long it had been since he'd left Mirkwood. It would have been nice to see the forest one last time.

In front of the gates, rows upon rows of orcs stood, bristling with spears and misshapen swords. Mishapen but damn sharp, Ylfronir reminded himself. He wondered briefly if Druluk was among them, or if Jorrig and his followers had made it from the banks of the Anduin this far. He realised that he hoped they weren't, that he hoped they would avoid this bloodbath. Surprised at himself, he shook his head as though to dispel the thoughts from his mind.

'_Charge_!' The cry cut through his reverie, and he responded involuntarily, urging his horse forward. The cavalry surged forward, into air which became thick with arrows, as the orcs struck back. Just as his horse was reaching a gallop, Ylfronir felt its muscles spasm suddenly. He barely had time to register this before the horse collapsed to one side, flinging him forward. The next moments were of blind panic, as he desperately tried to avoid being trampled by the hooves of his own allies horses, then he managed to get to his feet. A glance told him his horse was dead. There was no time for sorrow. He set an arrow to his bow and ran towards the enemy.

………………………

Druluk darted between the skirmishes that were breaking out on all sides as the first of Gondor's foot soldiers reached the orc front line. He kept a keen look out for anyone about to attack him, but an equally keen gaze on the Black Gate at least half of the time. So far he had managed to avoid a direct confrontation, though he feared that this might not last long. As he moved between the orcs, he made eye contact whenever he could, staring fixedly at each, looking out for sparks of recognition, for any indication that they'd heard about the plan, but seeing nothing. Beginning to panic even more, he spun on his heel to check that no one was behind him, and…

'Ylfronir!' Druluk stood for a moment, stunned. Was it the stress of the battle playing tricks on his mind? He took a step towards the vision, letting his sword hand drop to his side. But Ylfronir took a step backwards and raised his bow, aiming the arrow directly at the orc's neck.

'Ylfronir, it's me…' said Druluk, uncertainly

'Druluk of the Orc Collective?' asked Ylfronir, bitterness apparent in his voice.

'No …'

'Oh, so _that_ oath meant nothing either?'

'I don't understand…I…' Druluk floundered for the right words, 'You're not dead!' he exclaimed, grinning despite himself,

'No…' said Ylfronir, confused, 'despite the best efforts of all your friends…'

'Ylfronir, they told me that you were dead. That they had poisoned you both…'

'…Nathradril very nearly died…' interrupted Ylfronir, before his mind fully processed the significance of what Druluk had just said, then it hit him: 'They told you they had murdered us and you _joined them_?'

'It wasn't that simple,' Druluk said desperately, though he was having trouble believing it himself

'No. Nothing's ever simple. Like…' Ylfronir suddenly remembered something else, 'like how you forced Jorrig and those others to abandon their weapons and yet here _you_ are…' Ylfronir looked pointedly at Druluk's sword, all the while keeping his arrow trained on him, 'Looking at this _simply_ it would seem that you are an insufferable hypocrite, but I'm sure…'

Druluk followed the elf's gaze to stare at the sword himself

'I know…' he began, '…what it looks like, but…'

'But what?'

'Ylfronir, please, I can explain it all but…'

'I thought that we were friends!' Ylfronir suddenly exclaimed, 'I truly did. Nathradril and I escaped from those dungeons back in Moria and my first thought, my _first thought_, Druluk, was to save _you_!' Ylfronir clenched his teeth in anger at the way his own voice was shaking.

'_They told me you were dead_!' shouted the orc, 'I barely knew what I was doing!'

'Do you know what you're doing now?'

'Do _you_?'

Something about Druluk's intense, questioning stare made Ylfronir hesitate. The orc's stance, his tone and the flicker of hope – insane hope, but hope – glinting in his eyes brought back to Ylfronir memories of Isengard. The righteousness, the passion and the idealism were still there, the orc practically radiated them. How had he not noticed this before? Slowly, deliberately, Ylfronir lowered his bow.

'Drop your sword,' he said, simply

'What?'

'Put down your sword, Druluk.'

'I don't…'

'Prove to me that you haven't changed.'

'But…'

'…Prove it!'

Druluk's eyes flicked desperately from Ylfronir to the ramparts of the Black Gate then back again,

'I _can't_…Ylfronir, please, this is more important than you understand…'

'…Oh, I think I understand,' Ylfronir swung the bow back again, furious at his own stupiditiy in believing in Druluk for a moment, 'I understand _perfectly_…'

But before he could let the arrow fly…

…Druluk saw the other orc appear behind Ylfronir as if out of nowhere. He opened his mouth to shout a warning…

…A sharp pain stabbed in the back of Ylfronir's calf. The leg collapsed uselessly under him and he fell to the ground…

… 'Ylfronir!' shouted Druluk in horror, racing forward, casting his sword to the ground as he ran…

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update… 


	18. The End is Nigh

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

The sword hit the ground with a dull _thwack_. It bounced once, then lay still.

Druluk reached the elf's side and grabbed his arm to prevent him collapsing completely.

'Ylfronir!' he cried, desperately, blind to the melee all around.

The orc who had struck Ylfronir stared in shock, his fierce grimace morphing into an expression of puzzlement. He looked at Druluk, then a few yards away to where the sword rested. And then he raised his eyes to see another orc staring at the sword from the far side.

A quiver seemed to run through the second orc's body. Then slowly, deliberately, he stooped to place the battle axe he had been wielding on the ground. The orc who had struck Ylfronir swallowed hard, then flung his own sword away.

Radiating out from where Druluk's sword lay, so innocuously, on the soil, a gradual circle of orcs disarmed themselves, whilst men observed with incredulous stares.

Druluk slowly became aware of the drop in noise level. He looked up in confusion, and the first thing he saw was the weapon he had let fall. And realisation hit him with an almost physical force

_Oh shit…_

He forced himself to look up further, to the battlements of the Black Gate. Biting his tongue he squinted…and made out a small figure waving a flaring torch from side to side. Concentrating intently, Druluk counted just 5 such waves before the light vanished. The plan had been for Tlox to wave a full 60 times, to ensure the signal would get through. If he had only caught the last 5, that meant…

Druluk let Ylfronir slide to the ground, and stood up, looking around him wildly. He saw the closest orcs, weaponless now, staring back questioningly…and a young knight from Gondor standing further back, sword still at the ready, looking at the orcs in incomprehending fear.

'You!' Druluk shouted, and the knight glared right at him, swinging his shield up…

'Don't strike!' Druluk begged. 'I'm not going to. Just take him,' he struggled to hoist Ylfronir up, 'please. Please. He's wounded…'

'Get away from him, goblin!' the knight found his voice at last, 'or your next words will be your last…'

Druluk took a step backwards, hands up,

'Just promise me you'll get him safely out of here…'

The knight walked over, armour clinking, and swung the elf over his shoulder,

'Careful!' Druluk blurted out, then bit back his words as the knight's hostile eyes narrowed…There was a moment of tangible indecision…then the man turned on his heel and headed back towards the enemy lines.

Druluk sagged in relief…but it was shortlived. He had lost precious minutes since Tlox gave the signal, and his thoughtless casting aside of the sword too early had been a huge mistake. To salvage the situation now he really had to…

An ominous rumbling started to become audible…

_No_! thought Druluk to himself, _not yet_!

The ground began to quiver…

Druluk heard voices raised in fear, and became aware of running feet…

'Away from Mordor!' he yelled, his voice cracking, 'Orcs! Run for your lives AWAY FROM MORDOR!'

His head suddenly spinning, he dropped to his knees on the shaking ground. Around him, no one was moving

'What are you waiting for?' he screamed, 'what are you waiting for? Run!'

The plan was crumbling, just as the caves below them were collapsing thanks to Tlox's efforts. The young orc had insisted that sabotaging the structure was possible by breaching just a few key walls, and it looked as though he had been right...Druluk only hoped that he had managed to escape after igniting the explosives…

'Run!' he cried, hoarsely, with barely a breath left in him…And then he remembered.

_Do exactly as I do_… Those had been his words, as he tried to keep the plan simple. Bloody stupid, _obedient_ orcs… He scrambled to his feet, and started to stagger away from the Black Gate. And then the other orcs nearby started to move.

The motion spread out, wave like, and the general movement away from the Black Gate grew into a charge. Druluk found himself carried along in the flow. He had given up trying to think. None of the men they rushed past seemed to be trying to attack them, they were all staring as the ground before the Black Gate gave way. Suddenly a great crashing noise tore through the sound of the mass exodus, and Druluk stole a glance over his shoulder to see that the walls of the Black Gate itself were slipping into the abyss which had opened up. The level of destruction was so much more than he had ever imagined. He went cold as he thought of the many orcs who had surely died in the collapse, Tlox almost certainly among them. He felt drawn irresistibly to take another look over his shoulder, tears flooding into his eyes.

Through the blur, he saw the final flourish, as a great cascade of glowing lava spewed out of Mount Doom. Tlox's explosives must have disturbed a more fundamental geological stability. His tears gave way to helpless sobs, and he gasped as he ran. But there was a certain glory in that destruction. It was a fitting memorial to Thrrl, Tlox and all the others. Not least Rashgrul. And no doubt, before long, himself. It was all over now.


	19. A New Beginning

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc**

'Ylfronir!'

Nathradril's tone held pleasure and disapproval in equal measure,

'What are you doing here? You shouldn't be standing on that leg yet…'

'I'm completely capable, thank you,' he replied stiffly, trying not to wince from the still fairly significant pain from his wound, 'and did you really expect me to miss Aragorn's coronation?'

Nathradril tried to maintain her angry expression, but broke into a grin within seconds, and,

'I'm glad you made it,' she said. Ylfronir just smiled, and moved to stand beside her.

'Got any leaflets, then?'

'Plenty,' she pressed a pile into his hand. He looked down to see that she had stencilled

'A new age – a new order!' onto each piece of parchment, above the usual explanation of what Mirkwood Elves for a New Democracy were trying to achieve.

'Not your usual style,' said Ylfronir, 'I was expecting something more along the lines of 'The Return of the King The Return of the Parasite-dictator'…? '

'Well…' said Nathradril, embarrassed, 'I thought that might seem a _little_ ungracious… But if you fancy drawing up a few more?'

'These are fine,' he grinned, and started to try and attract the attention of passers by.

'Well! I didn't expect to see you two here!' exclaimed a familiar voice

Ylfronir felt himself reddening as he looked up to see Legolas, resplendent in the regalia of the royal house of Mirkwood, smiling quizzically at him and Nathradril.

'Surely a coronation is the pinnacle of all that you despise?'

'That's where you're wrong,' said Nathradril, 'it's a prime time for campaigning. And while we're on that subject, do you reckon you could persuade Aragorn to abdicate?'

The elf prince laughed. Ylfronir scowled at him, but Nathradril just gazed coolly back.

'I'm deadly serious,' she said, and even though her tone was light, Legolas stopped laughing.

'Some day you'll see we're right,' she continued.

Ylfronir reached for her hand, took it, and squeezed it tightly.

'Maybe,' replied Legolas.

There was a moment when no one spoke. Then Legolas turned to Ylfronir,

'Good to see you're up and about. We'll see you back in Mirkwood before long, I hope?'

'I…Yes. Yes, I think so,' said Ylfronir, surprising himself even as he spoke. Nathradril squeezed his hand even tighter in reply.

Legolas nodded, in a satisfied manner.

'Well, I'd better be off,' he said, jerking his head to indicate the dais where the coronation was about to take place, but having the decency to look a bit awkward about it. 'I'll see you soon.'

He moved off, the gold and silver threads in his tunic flashing in the sun.

Ylfronir turned to Nathradril. He took a breath to speak, but was interrupted by a voice hissing insistently

'_Pssst__! Ylfronir!_'

Something in that voice seemed familiar.

'_Ylfronir_ Don't make a scene, but _come here!_'

He pinpointed the location of the voice – behind a pillar, over to his left.

'I'll be back in a moment,' he said quickly to Nathradril, and began to limp over to where the voice was coming from. It couldn't possibly be him…could it?

'Druluk!'

'Quiet, quiet, quiet!' the orc hushed him. Druluk looked, if it were possible, even more haggard than Ylfronir remembered him, but there was a certain peace in his eyes which lent his face a much gentler expression.

'What the hell are you doing here?' whispered Ylfronir, crouching down beside him, and gasping involuntarily as he accidently put pressure on his injured leg.

'I came to check if you were alright,' said the orc, simply.

'I…well…I'm fine…But I thought you had surely perished when the ground opened up!'

'No. Quite a lot of us escaped. You see, we had a plan, and…'

'You saved my life, Druluk…'

'Huh?'

'The knight who carried me from the battlefield told me how you stood over me, how you made sure he took me to safety. I never thought I'd get the chance to thank you…'

'Thank me? Ylfronir, if it wasn't for me you'd never have been caught up in any of this! I've seen Jorrig, you know…'

'…Jorrig's alive?'

'Yes, all the Orc Republic are alive and well…they actually got a bit lost on the way to Mordor and never made it to the battle…We met them as we fled…But anyway, Jorrig told me about the Nazgul, how the hell did you manage to escape that?'

'Oh, Nathradril commandeered an eagle, never mind about that,'

'An _eagle_? Jorrig sends his apologies by the way, and said to apologise to the other elf too, I forget his name…'

'Celidel. Hah, I'm sure he'll really appreciate it…'

They sat for a moment in silence, leaning their backs against the pillar, relishing the fact that, despite everything, against all the odds, things seemed to have…somehow…worked out.

'Where are you living?' asked Ylfronir,

'We – that is, me and the orcs who fled with me – are planning to re colonise Mordor.'

'Re colonise Mordor? I'm not sure what Aragorn's going to have to say about that…'

'Well, he'll just have to get used to it. The Orc Republic of Mordor.'

'So you're not going back to Moria?'

'Oh no. Mordor it is. We're going to have a proper democracy and everything…'

'Really!'

'Definitely.'

Ylfronir looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, jokingly, he asked

'Do you think you'll have room for an elf ambassador?'

'There will always be room for an elf ambassador,' grinned Druluk. 'Maybe even two elf ambassadors,' he added, innocently, with a glance at Nathradril. Ylfronir laughed, forgetting the fear of being overheard.

He clasped Druluk's shoulder with his hand

'A new beginning.'

'A new beginning,' repeated the orc.

A cheer went up from the crowd watching the coronation.

Ylfronir met Druluk's eye and smiled.


End file.
